


The Detective's Daughter

by AColorfulMind



Series: The Chronicles of Etheldrea Holmes [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Sherlock Has a Daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AColorfulMind/pseuds/AColorfulMind
Summary: Etheldrea Holmes is a bright sixteen year old with valuable skills just like her father. Who is her father? None other than Sherlock Holmes.First in The Chronicles of Etheldrea Holmes.





	1. A Study in Pink Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you think you've seen this work before, you might be correct. Either you've read it on FF.net or you've read it on some other account (which I really hope not because that mean's someone is plagiarizing this). Either way, my name is AColorfulMind and I decided to create this account to show my work. I have only ever been on FF.net but I really like the set up of Ao3, and I thought I would give it a shot. Thank you for reading!

 

As Etheldrea had already moved the boxes into her room, the real problems could begin. She leaned against the wall, playing with the gold embroider _EH_ on the corner of her jacket, and her light blue eyes watched her dad as he shuffled a few boxes here and there. Then he stood straight and walked over to the mantle place.

“You need a flat mate.” she said to Sherlock as he looked at his skull.

“Why? I have you.” He replied.

“I’m your daughter, I don’t count.”

“I was talking to the skull.”

She rolled her eyes, “You definitely need a flat mate.”

“Why? The last one we had was so boring, and a nuisance.”

“You just didn’t like him because he touched your things.”

“He kept messing with my experiments.”

“Well, find someone that you do like. Do some research on them, do a full scale back ground check on them if you want.”

“I don’t like people.”

“You like me.”

“Wrong,” he shook his head, “I don’t like you.”

“I still think you need to find a flat mate. Come on dad, do you really think we’ll be able to afford it here, even with Mrs. Hudson giving us a special price?”

He was silent, and was contemplating. He turned away from the mantle, grabbed his jacket, scarf.

“Bored already? We haven’t even begun to unpack.” she said, “See you in a while.”

Etheldrea turned and headed back to her room to start unpacking. The first thing she did was set up her coat stand, and then carefully took off her favorite purple scarf, and wrapped it around the stand. Then she did the same with her black jacket. Much like her father and his scarf and coat, she never left the house without hers.

Looking around the barren room, she sighed and ran a hand through her short, wavy, brown hair.

Etheldrea started with my bed, slipping on the dark purple bed sheets and duvet, and then started stacking my books on book shelves. The whole process was slow and boring, but after an hour she was just about done. My last box held a bunch of knickknacks, but she wouldn’t be able to set those up until she had some shelves.

She walked into the living room, and took a look around. Her dad’s papers, book, compositions, and god knows what else he hoarded lay about the room. She sat down in the red armchair and sighed; she could take a quick break.

Looking around the room, she felt more at home here than anywhere they had been in the past five years. The many different wall papers were cool, and the atmosphere was mysterious. She loved it here, and thought Sherlock did too.

CRASH

Worried, she looked towards the back corner of the room, near the sofa. A pile of something fell over. She stood and walked over to pick it up. It was nothing but a package of envelopes. As she organized them, and sat them back on the table, she saw something interesting. A gray wallet, with something metallic and silver sat there. She picked it up and opened it, revealing the badge of DI Gregory Lestrade.

She rolled her eyes and made a mental note to call her dad. Before doing so, she stuck the badge in her bag, called the DI to tell him she was on my way, and left.

Half an hour later, she walked up to the man she would gladly call a friend, and handed him the badge.

“I’m so sorry sir. I would say it’ll never happen again, but I can never promise anything that involves my dad.”

“It’s perfectly fine. I’ll talk with your dad later. In fact, here he comes now.”

“Great,” Sally Donavan muttered, “Both the freaks are here.”

She glared at her, “This “freak” is named Etheldrea, and both she and her father solved more cases in a week than you have in a month.”

Every time, every god damn time, she set foot in Donavan’s presence there would be an ugly word thrown through the air. While her dad could easily brush it off, Etheldrea had a bit of a temper in her and bullies had a tendency to set her off.

“Girls, just relax.” Lestrade said.

“Etheldrea, what are you doing here?” her dad asked.

“Returning a stolen object. Dad, what have I told you?”

“Things. Lestrade, that case you were going on about?”

“Yeah, the victim’s brother said he was out of town, but it’s just not adding up.”

She turned to leave and passed Anderson on the way out.

“What, not going to say good bye?” he sneered.

“Why would I waste my breath on someone like you?” she replied, “By the way, how’s the affair?”

He sputtered, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “Right.”

Instead of going straight home, she went for a walk. The streets of London were far more entertaining than the flat, and the shops are more interesting too. She knew that a short ten minute walk from here was a small bookstore. It was antique, and often forgotten, hiding in between a teenager’s clothing boutique and a fairly popular bistro.

She smiled as she entered the shop, a small bell announcing her presence. The store was dimly lit, casting odd shadows here and there. Her favorite smell, ancient books, was filtered through the air.

“Are you in the right shop dearie? We don’t normally have a whole lot of kids your age in here.” A fail old woman at a check out desk asked.

“No, I’m most definitely in the right place. These are my favorite kinds of shops. You never know what treasures could be hidden on the shelves.”

She smiled kindly, “Take your time. When you’re ready, I’ll be more than happy to check you out.”

Etheldrea nodded and looked around. The walls, which she suspected were a light yellow, were hidden by shelf upon shelf of books. She saw books that looked brand new, and some that looked like they came from Excalibur’s age.

She ran her fingers along the edges, brushing the spines, and feeling the rough binding. She smiled slightly, like each one was an old friend. She picked a book and flipped it open to the first page. She read the first paragraph and was instantly hooked.

She wasn’t sure how long she was in the store, time passed quickly, but she heard the bell ring. Etheldrea brushed it off thinking it was another customer, but then she felt a man’s hands on her shoulders, and her instincts kicked in. Like her dad had taught her, she raised my arm and elbowed the man, only to be blocked. She turned with her other arm raised for blocking, but stopped when she saw who it was.

“Dad, don’t scare me like that!” She nearly yelled.

“I thought you were heading straight back to Baker Street?”

“I got distracted.”

“I knew you would. Are you ready?”

“Yes, I just have to pay.”

Sherlock nodded and followed behind. She walked up to the counter and set the book down, which she just now saw, _The Dream Cycle of H.P. Lovecraft: Dreams of Terror and Death_.

“That’ll be seven pounds and twenty.” The woman said.

Etheldrea reached for her coin purse but her dad stopped her, lowering his hand on hers and giving the lady the money. She grabbed the book and they walked out of the store, then her dad hailed a cab.

“Thank you.” she said as they rode back to Baker Street.

“It was nothing.”

“Not to me.”

He didn’t say anything, choosing to look out the window. She opened her book and began to read from where she had left off. Moments later, they were both receiving hugs from Mrs. Hudson and walking up the stairs to their flat.

“Did you finish your room?”

“Nearly. I need to get a few shelves up, and then I’ll be finished.”

“Good, let’s get started in here then.”

That was how the rest of their afternoon and night went, unpacking, more unpacking, and more unpacking. They still had a lot to do, and now their apartment only needed organization.

Etheldrea said goodnight to her dad, then went to her room. The only light she kept on was her reading lamp, and she grabbed her new book. Half an hour later, her eyes began to droop, and she closed the book and lay back on her pillow.

She smiled as she heard her father play his violin. Although, she was accustom to him playing every night, she never tired of the music lulling her to sleep.


	2. A Study in Pink Part 2

“Etheldrea, come one, get up.”

She blinked, and looked at her wake up call. Her dad was standing by her bed, dressed to go out.

“Come on Ethel, we have a case to solve.”

“Give me five minutes.”

Her dad left and she quickly got ready. Exactly five minutes later she met him at the door. They left Baker Street, and headed straight to Bart’s. Sherlock lead her to the forensic analysis room and told her to sit down.

“So what am I doing here exactly?”

“Helping me with a case.”

“What’s my job?”

“In a minute, I need you to analyze these elements. Tell me all observations.”

“Got it.”

She grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen, then sat down at the table and looked in the microscope.  

“It’s a green paint chip. There is nothing to observe there.” She said before he could leave the room.

“That’s what I thought. But why . . .? OH! I need to see Molly.”

Sherlock rushed out of the room, leaving Etheldrea by herself. She shook her head and stood to leave, but stopped when her father walked back in, followed by a stout, balding man.

“Hello Dr. Stamford.” She said.

“Good morning Etheldrea, I didn’t realize you would be here too.”

“Neither did I.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you again.”

“You too, Doctor.”

“Etheldrea, go talk to Molly for me.”

“What do you need?”

“A body, a fresh one.”

She saluted him, and said, “On it. Good morning, and have a good afternoon if I don’t see you again.”

“Then a good afternoon to you Miss Holmes.”

Before she left, her father slipped a piece of paper into her hand. She glanced at it when she was alone, and smirked.

_Scotland Yard, noon. You know what to do._

* * *

**The body is yours whenever you need it. – EH**

**Wonderful. – SH**

**Did you give my idea any consideration? About getting a flat mate? – EH**

**Some. Are you there yet? – SH**

**Yes, it’s about to start. – EH**

**You’re prepared? – SH**

**Of course. – EH**

“The body of Beth Davenport was found late last night. Investigation suggests this was suicide.” Sally Donavan said, starting the press conference.

Etheldrea listened intently as she finished the opening statement, and as questions began. Quickly, quicker than she thought, the questions she’d been waiting for were asked.

“These three people, there’s nothing that links them?” a reporter asked.

She sent the message to everyone in the room.

“Well, there’s none that we found yet, but wheat we’re looking for, there has to be one.” Lestrade said.

**WRONG!**

“If you all got texts, just ignore them.” Sally said.

“But, they all say wrong.” Another reporter said.

“Yes, just ignore them.”

Etheldrea hid her grin as people mumbled confused, and prepared to send the next text.

“If their suicides, what are you investigating?”

“These suicides are clearly linked. We’ve got our best people investigating.” Lestrade answered.

**WRONG!**

“It says wrong again.”

“One more question.”

 “Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?”

“These _do_ appear to be suicides. The poison was clearly self-administered.”

“Yes but if these are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?”

**You’re cleared to tell him. – EH**

“Well, don’t commit suicide. Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precaution. We are all as safe as we want to be.”

**WRONG!**

“Thank you.” Lestrade said, standing up.

Etheldrea waited until most of the room stood up, then slipped silently out of the room. She walked down the hall and ducked near a plant as Lestrade and Sally came by.

“Tell me how he does it.” Lestrade finished saying.

She waited until they passed, then quickly walked out of the station, and grabbed a cab. Moments later, she was back at St. Bart’s and heading towards the analysis room. Her father was still there, but Mike was gone.

“Where’s Mr. Stamford?” she asked.

“He stepped out for lunch. He said he would be back soon.”

She nodded, “I see. Anything you need me to do?”

“Not right now, just have a seat.”

Etheldrea did so, pulling out her phone and browsed through a poetry website. She had barely begun reading when a small knock interrupted them. She glanced up and saw Mike enter, followed by a short man with very light grayish brown hair. He stood stiff, prepared, and looked around the room.

 _Afghanistan or Iraq?_ Etheldrea thought.

“Hello.” She nodded.

“Good afternoon.” The man said.

“Mike, can I borrow your phone? Mine has no signal.” Sherlock asked.

“What’s wrong with the landline?”

“I prefer to text.”

“Sorry, it’s in my coat.”

“Uh here, use mine.” The man said.

“Oh, thank you.”

“This is an old friend of mine, John Watson.” Mike said.

Sherlock walked over and took the phone. As he sent a text he asked,

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Sorry?”

“Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Afghanistan, uh how did you-“

“Ah, Molly! Coffee, thank you.” Sherlock interrupted as the door opened.

A mousey, brunette woman walked in with a small smile.

“What happened to the lipstick?”

“It wasn’t working for me.”

“Really, I thought it was big improvement. Your mouth’s too small now.”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes, already preparing a lecture. She turned back to her phone, but was distracted once again by her father.

“How do you feel about the violin?”

“I’m sorry, what?” John asked.

“I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end.” He nodded over to Etheldrea, “She’s constantly out, not coming back until late at night. Would that bother you? Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other.”

John looked over to Mike, “You told him about me?”

“No, not a word.”

“Then who said anything about flat mates?”

“I did. I told Mike this morning I must be a difficult man to find a flat mate for. I’m still not sure how that one over there puts up with it.”

“Sixteen years, two months, one week, and four days of living with you.” Etheldrea said, standing up and walking to John.

She smiled and shook his hand, “Etheldrea Holmes, it was nice to meet you.”

“Uh, you too.” He replied.

She walked out of the room, down the hall and kept going to the doors. She waited a few more minutes for her father and they caught a cab back to Baker Street.

“So, do you think he’ll show up?” Etheldrea asked.

“Of course.”

“Good, does he know we already moved in?”

“No clue.”

“Dad that might have been something to mention.”

“It wasn’t important.”

She rolled her eyes and changed the subject, “Did you really have to say that to Molly?”

“Say what?”

“Your mouth’s too small now?”

“It was the truth; the lipstick was a big improvement. She looked so much better with it on.”

“That’s completely true, but you don’t say anything about it.”

“Do you have school tomorrow?”

“Yes, why?”

“When will you be back?”

“Depends if you need me back at a certain time.”

“Before seven if you please. That’s when Mr. Watson is coming.”

“Alright.”

“What do you do when you’re there?”

“It’s the library, obviously I read.”

“But why, you can do that home?”

 “Are you worried?”

“You know more than anyone that there is a lot of danger out there.”

“This is why I take a cab. It gets me straight from one place to another without any danger. I’m perfectly safe. Wait, you really do worry, don’t you?”

“Why would I worry? You said it yourself, you’re safe.”


	3. A Study in Pink Part 3

“Hey Holmes, watch where you’re going next time!” a boy yelled after shoving her into a locker.

She glared at him deciding he wasn’t worth her time yet, turned around and then straightened her coat. Then she walked to her first class.

 _Happy Monday._ She thought.

Biology started her day, and she walked into the room, taking her usual place in the back with a book. Class didn’t start for another fifteen minutes, but Etheldrea used this time to read.

“Hello, is this seat taken?” a new voice asked.

Etheldrea barely looked up, “No. No one ever sits there.”

“Great, thanks.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then it was broken.

“I’m Abigail Grey, Abby for short.”

Etheldrea only nodded in response.

“My brother, Adam, and I just moved here with our parents.”

Etheldrea continued reading.

“What’s your name?”

“Etheldrea Holmes.”

“Middle name?”

“Wisteria.”

“Like the flower. I love Wisterias. My middle name is Tracey by the way.”

Etheldrea finally looked up and observed the girl. She was about sixteen, with tan skin, blue eyes, and styled golden blonde hair. She was dressed in a red sequined top, dark jeans, and white shoes. Around her neck was a tarnished silver necklace with a cameo necklace of a woman. She sat with her body turned to Etheldrea, all her attention focused on her. Her eyes occasionally glanced at her twiddling, manicured fingernails.

“Don’t be nervous. You’ll fit in just fine, just not with me.” Etheldrea said.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not one to like. If I were you, I would turn around and make friends with someone of your status.”

“My status?”

“Popular, quite obvious, but the looks are façade.”

“How do you know?”

“Your hair line. The tan spray you used this morning is still there, unnoticeable by most but not to me. It’s also on your forearms where the skin is normally paler. Your hair dyed a darker blonde than your actual color which was very bright. Nearly platinum colored. Your nails, you keep picking at the edges of your flesh, and said edges are red and rather ragged. That tells me you aren’t used to them. You pick at them throughout the day and take them completely off the moment you get home. Now let’s talk about your clothes.”

“Yes but, how did you know I was popular?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Your tone of voice, your authoritative, and but not in a demanding way. You’re used to giving your opinion, and probably having it enforced. The way you dress, the latest styles, fashionable colors. You ‘dress to impress’ as they say. That shirt you’re wearing, I saw workers stocking it in a shop a few days ago. However, the only thing odd about your appearance is that necklace. Originally, it was bright silver, but now the color has dulled, and it’s very black in the back of the neck, meaning you’ve worn for a very long time, since you were a child. It’s sentimental to you, given to you by a grandfather judging by the style. If I’m correct, then the woman is your grandmother. I’m guessing she must have died a while back, and your grandfather gave you the necklace because you had a fascination with it.”

Abigail stared at her, mouth slightly a gap, “How did you-?”

“Hey, new girl, why are you wasting your time with Holmes?” a kid entering the room asked.

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and turned back to her book. There, Abby would now leave her alone, just like the rest of them. She’d probably join her class in the usual taunts, and general bull-

“Because she’s cool.”

Etheldrea snapped her head up, looking at Abby in confusion. Cool? Wasn’t that used to describe people who had friends?

“She isn’t cool; she’s a bloody nuisance and a prick.”

“But, you should have heard what she said. I didn’t tell her anything about myself, but she guessed it from my appearance.”

“Yeah, she does that. Annoying, isn’t it?”

“No, not at all. That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know someone could be that smart.” Abby grinned at her.

Etheldrea shook her head, “You should hear my dad, he’s way worse than me.”

“You mean better, and I don’t think that’s possible.”

It was Etheldrea’s turn to gap, “You really think I’m-?”

Etheldrea thought, _No, she can’t possibly. . ._

The bell rang and the teacher entered the room, interrupting them.

“I’ll talk with you later, alright?” Abigail said before turning around.

Etheldrea still stared, but quickly shook her head and focused on the teacher. As the hour went on, she kept drifting her gaze to the strange new girl. Abigail chatted quietly with the other students, making friends with them. Despite her obvious encounter with Etheldrea, no one could care less.

 _Maybe they’re influencing her._ Etheldrea thought, _Just sending little sways though comments towards her. No doubt by the end of class, she’ll hate me too._

When the bell rang, Etheldrea swept up her stuff and hurried out of the room. Her normal routine was usually speed walking to her next class to avoid the endless taunts and shoves of her class mates. However, the routine was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder.

She looked back, expecting her usual tormentor, Alisa Brown, but instead she saw Abigail.

“Why did you take off so quickly? I wanted to talk to you.”

“Did your parents teach you? If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Then she shrugged Abby’s hand off and continued more quick than before.

* * *

For the rest of the day, she avoided Abigail and ignored her when she tried talking to her. Her persistence was extremely annoying to Etheldrea, and she made sure the girl knew it too.

The last class she had was fortunately devoid of Abigail Grey, but it still housed Raquel Downing. The prissy irritation with a fat pink bow in her hair glared at Etheldrea as she took her seat.

“So, how did you do it?” she sneered.

“Do what?”

“Make the new girl your body guard?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Please, every time someone comes within a ten foot radius of you, she’s there tailing you down and knocking others out of the way. You always get away though.”

“For your information, I find her to be nothing but a nuisance, and as for her being my ‘body guard’ well, what she does isn’t in my control. Why she’s doing it, I have no idea.”

“Whatever. I bet you paid her, didn’t you? You paid her to follow you around, like a lap dog. Showing off in class just wasn’t enough. You need more attention from someone else.”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and began reading from her book.

When the final bell rang, and Etheldrea could go to the library, she sighed in relief, and hurried there.

The sign to Newton Library was a welcome sight, and she smiled entering the building. The librarian greeted her and Etheldrea said hello in return before walking to her usual corner in the library.

Just after she opened her book, a person sat down in the seat in front of her and pulled the book away from her.

“Excuse me, I was reading that.” She whispered to Abigail Grey.

“And I took away. Here, try me some time.” She replied sticking a slip of paper in the book and closing it.

Then she stood and walked over to a young blond teen, her brother Adam. Etheldrea gave him a once over, decided there was nothing special to see, and went back to book.

For the next four hours, she switched between finishing her homework and leisure reading. When she glanced at the clock it read 6:45, and she hurried to pack her things. Sherlock was already waiting for her at the bottom of the steps.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching the time.”

“When do you ever watch the time?”

“Never really, but I did make an effort today.”

“Let’s just go, we don’t want to keep Dr. Watson waiting.”

“Speaking of him, did you do any research?”

“No, his person, and his brother’s phone was all I needed. Why, did you?”

“No, I was busy reading.”

“You’re always reading, you never want to solve cases anymore.”

“Hey, it could be worse, and what do you mean by that? I’m always ready for a new case.”

“Yes, on the weekends. During your week nights, you are always at the library.”

“I do like a quiet work space.”

“You told me yesterday that all you do is read.”

“Sometimes I have homework.”

“TAXI!” Sherlock yelled, “You should have been more specific.”

“I’ll be more specific next time.”

The cab ride was quick, and they pulled up to Baker Street just as John came up.

“Hello.” Sherlock said getting out.

“Hello Mr. Holmes, Miss Holmes.” John replied.

“Sherlock, please.”

“Ethel is just fine.”

“This is a prime spot, must be expensive.” John said, looking around while Sherlock knocked on the door.

“Mrs. Hudson, the land lady, is giving us a special deal. She owes me a favor.” Sherlock told him, “A few years ago got his-self sentenced to death in Florida.”

“You stopped her husband from being executed?”

“Oh no, I insured it.”

The door to 221B opened and Sherlock gave Mrs. Hudson a hug. Etheldrea smirked at John’s confused expression, and then greeted the grandmotherly woman with a hug.

“Mrs. Hudson, Dr. John Watson.” Sherlock said introducing them.

Mrs. Hudson waved them in and they traveled upstairs. John surveyed the still very messy living room.

“This could be nice, this could be very nice.” He said.

“Yes, my thoughts precisely. So I went straight ahead and moved in.”

“As soon we get all this rubbish cleaned out.”

The two men looked at each other, and then Sherlock turned and moved some papers around, and stuck the mail to the fire place with a knife.

“That’s a skull.” John mentioned.

“A friend of mine. Well, I say friend.”

“What do you think then Doctor Watson?” Mrs. Hudson asked, “There’s another bedroom upstairs if you’ll be needing three bedrooms.”

“Of course well be needing three.”

“Oh don’t worry; we’ve got all sorts around here. Mrs. Turner next door has married ones. Oh Sherlock, the mess you’ve made.” The woman tsked.

John took a seat on the red chair while Sherlock opened up his computer. Etheldrea walked down the hallway and into her room. She set her bag by her bed and grabbed the book she had been reading.

A small slip of paper fell to the ground. She picked it up, reading the phone number carefully. That girl had put it there earlier, why? What was her game?

She was distracted by the sound of someone coming up the stairs and looked out the door to see Lestrade rush into the living room. She set the paper on her desk with the book and went to listen in.

“Where?” Sherlock asked.

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.”

“What’s new about this one? You wouldn’t come get me if there wasn’t something different?”

“You know how they never leave notes? This one did. Will you come?”

Etheldrea grinned, there was fantastic! She walked farther into the room and stood behind the red chair John sat in, crossing her arms over the back.

“Who’s on forensics?” Sherlock asked.

“Anderson.”

Etheldrea groaned and laid her head in her arms. Anderson of all people! She had seen enough of him yesterday.

“Anderson won’t work with me.”

“Well he won’t be your assistant.”

“But I need an assistant.”

“What about Etheldrea? You use her as an assistant anyway.”

“She’s hardly here.”

“Well, I’m here now.” She said.

“Yes but in the future you won’t be.”

“Sherlock,” Lestrade said, interrupting, “Will you come?”

“Not in a police car, I’ll be right behind.”

“Thank you.” Lestrade said, then took his leave.

Etheldrea smirked and stood straight, crossing her arms. Her dad’s frown slowly slid into a smile.

“Brilliant!” he said jumping in joy, “Yes! Four serial suicides and now a note! Oh it’s Christmas! Mrs. Hudson, I’ll be late, might need some food.”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and walked into the hallway as her dad put on his coat and scarf.

“I’m your land lady dear, not your house keeper.”

“Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don’t wait up.”

Etheldrea looked at her dad in surprise. Wasn’t john going with them? It was obvious he wanted more adventure in his life, this was the perfect opportunity.

Her father closed the door and began to descend the stairs. Etheldrea followed him, but he stopped down just one flight. He held a hand out.

“Just wait a moment.”

After a moment or two she heard _DAMN MY LEG_ from the flat. Then he dad walked by her as Mrs. Hudson came down stairs. The pink clad elder stopped before Etheldrea.

“Oh Drea dear, I forgot to ask. Do you think you can help me in the kitchen this weekend? A couple friends of mine are coming over Saturday afternoon and I want to make some biscuits.”

“I’d be happy to help Mrs. Hudson. What time?”

“Would eight o’clock be too early for you?”

“No, it would be perfect.”

“Thank you dear.”

Then she walked down the stairs to her rooms. John and Sherlock both came down the stairs and she followed in secession.

“Sorry Mrs. Hudson, I’ll skip the tea.” John said.

“All of you?”

Etheldrea smiled, “Come now, this will be the most fun I’ve had in weeks!”

“Possible suicides? Four of them? There’s no point in sitting at home when there’s something fun going on!” Sherlock said hugging and kissing Mrs. Hudson’s cheek.

“Look at you two all happy, it’s not decent.” She said shaking her head with a smile.

“Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!”


	4. A Study in Pink Part 4

Etheldrea sat awkwardly between her father and John. She kept her hands in her lap, and glanced over occasionally at what her father was doing. John looked over at the both of them every now and then, obviously anxious.

“Ok, you’ve got questions.” Sherlock said about ten minutes in to the ride.

“Yeah, where are we going?”

“Crime scene, next?”

“Who are you, what do you do?”

“What do you think?”

“I’d say private detective, but the police don’t go to private detectives.”

Etheldrea smirked along with Sherlock.

“I’m a consulting detective, the only one in the world, I invented the job.”

“What about me? Lestrade asks for me sometimes.” Etheldrea asked.

“You’re not a consulting detective, you’re barely my assistant.”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” John asked, “What does that mean?”

“It means that when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult _me_.”

“And me, sometimes Lestrade phones me too.” Etheldrea mumbled.

John laughed, “But the police don’t consult amateurs.” 

Etheldrea turned her head and glared at him. She opened her mouth to speak but Sherlock interrupted her,

“When I ask you yesterday Afghanistan or Iraq, you looked surprised.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I didn’t know, I saw. The haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. The conversation as you entered the room says trained at Bart’s, so Army Doctor. The tan above the wrists, you had been abroad but not sunbathing. Your limps really bad when you walk but you don’t asked for a chair when you stand, like you’d forgotten about it. So it’s at least partly psychosomatic.  That means the circumstances surrounding that would mean tragic, wounded in action. Wounded in action, sun tan, Afghanistan or Iraq? Then there’s your brother. Your phone is expensive, email and mp3 player. You’re looking for a flat to share, you wouldn’t waist money on that, it’s a gift. Scratches, small ones, many over time. It’s been used in the same pocket as keys and coins. One wouldn’t treat any luxury item like this, so it’s had a previous owner. Next bits easy, you know it already.”

“The engraving?”

“Harry Watson, clearly family member who’s given you their phone. Not your father, this is a young man’s gadget. Could be a cousin, but you’re a war hero who’s can’t find a place to live, unlikely you’ve got any extended family , certainly not one you’re close to, so brother it is. Now Clara, who’s Clara? It’s expensive, three kisses, an attachment, say’s wife not girlfriend. Also, it’s been given recently, this model’s only six months old. There’s trouble there, six months old and he’s already giving it away? If she left him, he would have kept it, people do, sentiment, but noo. He wanted rid of it, he left her. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants to stay in touch. You’re looking for cheap accommodation; you’re not going to your brother for help? It says you’ve got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don’t like his drinking.”

“How. Can. You possibly know about the drinking?”

“Shot in the dark, but a good one. The scuff marks around the edges. Every night he goes to plug it I to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man’s phone, you never see a drunk’s without them. There you go, see you were right.”

“I was right? About what?”

“The police don’t consult amateurs.”

“That. Was amazing.”

Etheldrea and Sherlock both looked at John quizzically.

“You think so?”

“Of course it was. It was extraordinary, quite extraordinary.

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

“Piss off.”

John laughed, and Sherlock and Etheldrea smiled.

“Etheldrea, can you do the same?” John asked.

She smiled and nodded, “Of course, I learned from the best.”

“Incredible, absolutely incredible.”

“However, I learned its best not to show off.” she said, nudging her father, “Especially when I started school.”

“Really, are the kids awful?”

“Some of them are, very much so. But, it’s the teachers I have issues with. Teacher’s don’t like being corrected, especially by someone three times younger than them.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh don’t be, it’s something you get used to after a while.”

The rest of the cab ride wasn’t as awkward as it had begun, and Etheldrea and John conversed easily. For Etheldrea, it was nice talking to someone new who didn’t judge her on appearance and what came out of her mouth. John Watson was starting to grow on her.

When the cab pulled up to the scene, Etheldrea immediately spotted Sally and repressed a groan. Of course she was here, when was she not there?

The trio walked towards the scene, and Sherlock asked, “Did I get anything wrong?”

“Harry and me don’t get along, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago. They’re getting a divorce, and Harry is a drinker.”

“Spot on then, I didn’t expect to be right about everything.”

“Harry’s short for Harriet.” John said, causing Sherlock to pause.

“Harry’s your sister.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?” John asked, taking in the flashing lights and tape.

“ _Sister?_ ”

“No, seriously, what am I doing here?”

“There’s always something.”

In front of them, Sally walked to them.

“Hello Freaks.” She greeted them.

Sherlock rested a hand on Etheldrea’s shoulder while she crossed her arms and glared at the Detective Sergeant.

“I’m here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“Why?”

“I was invited.”

“Why?”

“I _think_ he wants me to take a look.”

“Well you know what I think, don’t you?” she asked as they stepped under the tape.

“Always. I know you didn’t make it home last night.”

Etheldrea smirked, but kept her face hidden from Sally.

“Who’s this?”

“A colleague of my, Dr. John Watson. Dr. Watson, Sergeant Sally Donavon.”

“A colleague? How do you get a colleague? Did he follow you home?”

“Would it be better if I just waited?” John asked.

“No, come on.” Sherlock replied, lifting the tape.

“And what about the girl?” Sally asked, “How many times have we told you, you can’t bring a minor to a crime scene?”

“And how many times has she been of use to the case?”

Sally glared, and then lifted her walkie-talkie to her mouth.

“The freaks are here, I’m bringing them in.”

The four walked to the entrance, being greeted by Anderson as he walked out.

“Ah, Anderson, just when I thought I saw enough of you yesterday, here you are again.” Etheldrea said.

“It’s a crime scene, I don’t want it contaminated. Got that?” he asked, ignoring her.

“Clear. Is your wife away for long?”

“Oh don’t pretend that you worked that out, you’re daughter told you that. She figured that out yesterday.”

“If you recall, I _never_ said anything about your wife.”

“It’s true; she failed to mention it to me. Your deodorant told me that.”

“My deodorant?”

“It’s for _men_.”

“Well of course it’s for men, I’m wearing it.”

“So is Sergeant Donavon.”

Etheldrea smiled sweetly at Donavon before walking into the house. Her father and John followed after, with Sherlock “suspecting” that Sally only scrubbed the floors.

As they met with Lestrade, Sherlock told both John and Etheldrea to put on the blue full body coats.

“Who’s this?” Lestrade asked, referring to John.

“He’s with me.”

“Yeah, but who is he?”

“I said he’s with me.”

“Aren’t you going to put one on?” John asked.

Sherlock didn’t say anything, his silence giving him the answer.

“He never wears one. Gloves are all he needs.” Etheldrea said as she finished zipping up.

Lestrade led them down the hall, to the right, and up a rounded flight of stairs.

“I can give you _two minutes_.” He said, “Her name’s Jennifer Wilson. We found her credit cards; we’re running them now for contact details. She hasn’t been here long, some kids found her.”

Etheldrea stepped into the room behind John, taking a place next to her father. She surveyed the room, and took in the body. The woman was decked in an atrocious amount of pink.

“Shut up.” Her father said.

“I didn’t say anything.” Lestrade defended.

“You were thinking; it’s annoying.”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and stepped closer to the body. Immediately, she noticed the word Rache carved into the floor with the woman’s left hand.

Sherlock pushed her back a bit and knelt down. He ran a hand under her coat collar and it came up wet. Under her body, her clutch bag was dry.

Etheldrea moved to his left and looked over the woman’s jewelry. The necklace, bracelets, and earrings were clean, but her wedding ring was very dirty.

“Have you two got anything?”

“Not much.” Sherlock said.

“But it’s better than nothing.” Etheldrea added.

Anderson stood at the door, “She’s German. Rache is German for revenge.”

Sherlock walked over to the door and shut it in his face as he said, “Yes, thank you for your input.”

“So she’s German?” Lestrade asked.

“Of course not. But she is from out of town. She was returning home to Cardiff.”

“What about the message?”

“Dr. Watson, take a look at the body.”

“We have a whole medical team down stairs.” Lestrade said.

“They won’t work with me.”

“I’m breaking every rule letting you in here.”

“Yes, because you need me.”

Lestrade looked down, “Yes I do, god help me.”

“Dr. Watson.”

John looked to Lestrade for confirmation.

“Do what he says, help yourself.” Lestrade said as he left.

Etheldrea walked around the body and looked at the ankles. Mud was splattered on one of them. She glanced around the room and saw no suitcase like she assumed there was.

She turned and walked out of the room, passing by Lestrade.

“Inspector, have you seen her suitcase?” she asked him.

“Suitcase?”

Etheldrea nodded once and turned away, walking around the hall and peeking into all the rooms. Not in a single one did she see a suitcase. She traveled downstairs and checked in all those rooms too but no cigar.

“SUITCASE! DID ANYONE FIND A SUITCASE! WAS THERE A SUITCASE IN THIS HOUSE?” her father yelled from above.

“SHERLOCK, THERE WAS NO CASE!”

Etheldrea walked towards the stairs and looked up.

“And?”

“There not suicides, there murders all of them.” Sherlock clapped his hands, “We’ve got a serial killer, I love those. There’s always something to look forward to.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Her _case_. Where is her case? Did she eat it?” he remarked sarcastically, “someone else was here and they took her case.”

Etheldrea went into thinking mode, and mumbled to herself, “So he must have driven here.”

She could have left it at a hotel.” John said.

“No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She color coordinates her lips and her shoes, she never would have left- OHH!”

“Sherlock, what is it?”

“Serial killers, always hard, you have to wait for them to make a mistake.” He said, rushing down the stoars.

“We can’t just wait!” Lestrade said.

“Oh we’re done waiting, look at her. Really look at her. He already make a mistake! Find out where she lives in Cardiff, find out her parents. Find out who Rachel is.”

“What mistake?”

“PINK!” Sherlock stopped and yelled up to them.

Then he ran down and passed Etheldrea on the way out the door. She sighed at his eagerness, and looked up the stairs as Dr. Watson. He limped down the stairs, and Etheldrea waited patiently for him.

Silently they took off the blue suits, and walked outside. John looked around for Sherlock, but didn’t see him anywhere.

“Where did Sherlock go?” he asked her.

“Somewhere, he takes off sometimes.”

“Is he coming back?”

“No, he doesn’t come back after he finished with the scene.”

“I see. . . So he just left you here?”

“I can find my way back to Baker Street.”

The two walked up to the tape, and Sally, and went under it.

“You’re not his friend.” Sally called out as they walked away.

John and Etheldrea turned back towards her. John walked closer, but Etheldrea stayed within ear shot.

“He doesn’t have friends.  So who are you?”

“I’m- I’m nobody. I just met him”

“Ok, then take my advice and stay away from him.”

“Why?”

“You know why they’re here? Not paid or anything. They like it. The weirder the crime, the better it is for them. And you know, one day just showing up won’t be enough. One day, we’ll be standing around a body, and Sherlock Holmes will be the one that put it there. His daughter would follow soon after.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they’re psychopaths.”

Etheldrea glared and walked over to them, “My Father. Is. Not a murderer and he never will be. He is also not a psychopath; he’s a sociopath. I’m the same. Get it right or don’t bother commenting on things you have right on, or know nothing about.”

“DONAVON!” Lestrade called from the house.

“Coming!” she called, and then turned to John, “Stay away from Sherlock Holmes, and his daughter.”

Etheldrea wanted nothing more than punch her in the face, but Sally was a cop and that would put her in big trouble, and Etheldrea preferred words over fists.

John shook his head and turned around, then held out his left arm to escort her.

“Coming?” he asked.

Etheldrea relaxed, and linked arms with him, “Sorry about that, she’s not usually that. . .”

“Awful? Horrible?”

“Yes, usually she just calls us freaks and leaves it at that.”

“It doesn’t matter; she should have said any of that. No one should have to put up with that.”

“Well, I have for over ten years, and my dad has for even longer.”

A phone booth to their right began to ring, but they both ignored it. They continued walking towards the main road and down a walk way. Another phone rang as they passed a shop, and Etheldrea became a bit suspicious. Then as they passed another phone booth, that one rang too.

She rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what was going on.

“If you want to take it and find a ride later, I can go on by myself.” She said.

“Are you sure? Its dark out, and-“

“John, I’ve found myself out in the dark many times. I’ve got money, I can get a cab.”

“You’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be fine. Good evening Dr. Watson.”

“Good evening.”

She turned around and walked down the street, but she didn’t get far when a black car pulled up and opened the door. Inside, a man sat waiting for her.

“Hello Harold, lovely to see you again.”

“And you Miss Holmes. Home, I presume?”

“If you know where he is. Baker street is fine.”


	5. A Study in Pink Part 5

When Etheldrea walked into 221B, Sherlock still wasn’t home. She walked into her room, took off her jacket and scarf, and sat at her desk. She grabbed the slip and read the number again, then stood quickly and went to the end of her bed.

She grabbed her laptop and entered the password, then clicked to Google. She typed the number into the search engine and chose the first website. From the list provided, all she knew was that it was a Verizon Network cellphone.

With some minor hacking, she got into the data base, and found the information she needed. The phone was part of the Grey family data plan, and the particular phone number she had belonged to Abigail Grey.

“Why would she give me her number?” she mumbled to the room.

Etheldrea grabbed her phone and texted the number a simple **Hello? – Eh**

Almost immediately there was a response.

**Hi! I was hoping you’d text!**

**Why is that? – EH**

**Because I want to talk with you? Lol, do I need a reason?**

**I prefer social interaction. If you want to talk, let’s meet some place. – EH**

**It’s nearly nine o’clock. I can’t leave now, my parent won’t let me.**

**Don’t they trust you? – EH**

**Yeah, but it’s a bit late for any student on a school night, isn’t it?**

**Not at all. The night is only just beginning. – EH**

**Well, my parents go to bed soon. I can try to sneak out. Where do you want to meet?**

**There’s a café called Angelo’s. I’ll be there after 10. – EH**

**Sweet, I’m only a few minutes’ walk from there! See you then!**

Etheldrea set the phone on her bed, grabbed a book, and walked out of her room and into the living room.  She took a seat on the black cushioned chair and read until she heard footsteps come up the stairs. Sherlock entered the room, pulling a bright pink suitcase behind him.

“I’m going to Angelo’s later.” She informed.

“So will I.”

“Where was it?” she asked.

“Garbage about a mile away.”

He laid it on the floor and pulled it open. There was a change of clothes, a tooth brush, and everything else you’d expect to find in a day-trip bag.

“What’s missing?” he asked her.

“Her phone.”

“Exactly. Why doesn’t she have her phone?”

He stood up and dashed to the kitchen. From a cabinet he pulled out a box of nicotine packets. He grabbed three and attached them to his arm. Then he went to the sofa and lay down.

“Is this really a three patch problem?” she asked.

“Do you have any helpful suggestions?”

She stood and walked towards her bedroom.

“That’s what I thought.”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and continued to her room. She closed the door behind her, knowing her father would lay there for a while. Then, she walked to her closet, grabbed a thin, painted white, wooden box. It had a tarnished, silver lock with a matching key already in it.

She set it on her desk, took a seat, and twisted and pulled the key out. Then she carefully opened the lid. There wasn’t much inside, just a couple pictures, a silver chain connected to a petrified rosebud, and a silver ring engraved with vines.

This was everything Etheldrea, and also Sherlock, had left of her mother.

She lifted a photo and studied it. A young, long blonde haired woman with brown eyes kneeled on the ground by a tree. The woman wore a white blouse, blue jeans, and gray socks. On the back in her father’s cursive was _Amy Smith, Hyde Park_. She set the photo down and picked up the other. It was a class graduation picture with Amy circled.

When Etheldrea was a baby, Sherlock had left Amy. Amy had begun socializing with the wrong people and began making terrible choices. He had never told Etheldrea the details, just that he came home, they had an argument, he broke up with her, and he took custody of Etheldrea. Amy had given him the jewelry for her daughter as a reminder of her mother.

She set the photos back in the box, and picked up the ring. She twirled it in her hands, rubbing her fingers over the engravings. Then she set the ring back in the box, relocked it, and brought it back to her closet.

She was going to read again, but she heard John, knowing it was him from his limp, enter the flat. She walked out of her room and listened to the conversation.

“Good news for breathing.” John said.

“Uh, breathing boring.” Sherlock groaned.

“Is that three patches?”

“It’s a three patch problem.”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes, and went to grab a book from the shelf. She sat down in the black leather chair with her feet probed under her and rad while listening to her father and John’s conversation.

“Ah, I’m glad to see you made it back alright.” John said to her.

“I told you I would. Good to see you’re alright too.” She replied, going back to her book.

John turned and looked back at Sherlock, “Well. You asked me to come, I assume it’s important.”

“OH! Of course. Can I borrow your phone?”

“My phone?”

“Don’t want to use mine, always a chance the number will be recognized. It’s on the website.”

“Mrs. Hudson’s got a phone.”

“Yeah, but she’s downstairs, I tried shouting but she didn’t hear.”

“What about your daughter?”

“If she was eighteen, I would.”

“I was on the other side of London!”

“It was no hurry.”

John sighed, and then reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and held it out to Sherlock. Sherlock held out a hand, waiting for John to place it which he did.

“So this is about the case?”

“Her case.”

“Her case?”

“Her suitcase, yes obviously. Murder took her suitcase.”

“Ok, so?”

“On my desk, there’s a number. I want you to send a text.” Sherlock said, holding the phone out.

John’s mouth twitched, “You brought me here, to send a text?”

“Yes, the number on my desk.”

Etheldrea looked between Sherlock and John. The last time her father did this, the man blew a gasket and left and they never heard from him again. To her surprise, John straightened, walked over and took the phone. Then he walked over to the window and looked out.

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked.

“I just met a friend of yours.”

Incredulously, Sherlock asked, “A friend?”

“An enemy.”

“Oh. Which one?”

“Your archenemy, according to him. Do people have archenemies?”

“Did he offer you money to spy on me?”

“Yes, you and Etheldrea.”

Etheldrea shook her head. She didn’t have a great relationship with her Uncle, but it was a bit better than the brother’s. However, his constant worrying irritated her a bit. She was already being watched by his men every time she left the house. Why did he have to try and get someone to spy on them in the flat?

“Did you take it?”

“No.”

“Pity, we could have split the fee. Think it through next time.”

“Who is he?”

“The most dangerous man you’ve probably ever met and not my problem right now. On my desk, the number.”

John looked back to the desk, limped over and looked at the number.

“Jennifer Wilson, Jen- hold on. Wasn’t that the dead woman?”

“Yes. That’s not important, just enter the number. Are you doing it?”

“Yes.”

“Have you done it?”

“Yeah, hang on!”

“These words exactly, ‘What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland St.’.”

“You blacked out?”

“What? No, no!” he said getting up and strutting over the table, “Type and send it.”

Sherlock grabbed the pink case, and a chair, sitting next to Etheldrea. He began to unzip it and looked at the contents. John looked shocked.

“That’s, that’s the pink lady’s case. That’s Jennifer Wilson’s case.”

“Yes, obviously.”

John looked at him, and Sherlock looked annoyed.

“Oh perhaps I should mention, I didn’t kill her.”

“I never said you did.”

“Why not, given the text he just had you send, and the fact that he has her case is a perfectly logical assumption.” Etheldrea said.

“Do people usually assume he’s the murderer?”

Sherlock said, “Now and then, yes.”

“Ok . . . how did you get this?” John asked, taking a seat in the red chair.

“By looking. The killer must have driven it to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention to themselves, practically a man, so obviously he still had it. He had to get rid of it, wouldn’t have taken more than five minutes. That was his mistake. I checked every backstreet five minutes from Lauriston Gardens big enough for a car, and anyway he could get rid of a bulky object without being observed. It took less than an hour to find the right skip.”

“Ok, you got all that because you knew the case would be pink?”

“Well it had to be pink, obviously.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” John asked.

“Because you’re an idiot.” John looked up, “No no no, don’t be like that, practically everyone is. Now look, do you see what’s missing?”

“From looking at the case, no.”

“Her phone. Her mobile phone. It wasn’t on her body, it wasn’t in case. You texted her number.”

“Maybe she left it at home.”

“She has a string of lovers and she’s very careful about it, she never leaves her phone at home.”

“Why did I just send that text?”

“Well the question is ‘where is her phone now?’.” Etheldrea said.

“She could have lost it.” John guessed.

“Yes or . . .” she continued.

“The, the murderer? You two think the murder has the phone?”

Sherlock guessed, “Maybe she left it when she left the case, or he took it from her for some reason. Either way, chances are the murder has her phone.”

“Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer? What good will that do?”

He was cut off by the phone ringing.

Etheldrea smirked, “I think it will do a lot of good.”

“A few hours after his last victim he receives a text that can only be from her.” Sherlock said, standing up and putting on a jacket, “If someone found that phone they would just ignore that, but the murderer would panic.”

Etheldrea stood and went to her room to grab her coat and scarf.

“Have you talked to the police?” John asked Sherlock.

“Four people are dead, there’s no time to talk to the police.”

“Why are you talking to me?”

“Mrs. Hudson took my skull.”

“So I’m filling in for your skull? And what about Etheldrea?”

“Relax, you’re doing fine. Etheldrea thinks just like I do, she’s not help at the moment. Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well, you could just sit there and watch telly.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud.”

“Why don’t you have Etheldrea go with you?”

“She is.”

John laughed to himself.

“Problem?”

“Sargent Donavan. She said you get off on this, you enjoy it.”

“And I said dangerous, and here you are.” Sherlock said, and then he and Etheldrea turned and went down the stairs.

“Damn it.” John said, getting up and following after.


	6. A Study in Pink Part 6

They grabbed a cab and rode off to Angelo’s café. They stopped at the block and began walking the rest of the way.

“Where are we going?” John asked.

“Northumberland Street. Five minute walk from here.”

“You think he’s stupid enough to go there?”

“No, I think he’s brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones; they’re always so desperate to get caught.”

“Why?”

“Appreciation, applause, spotlights. He needs an audience.” Etheldrea said, like it was simple.

John sighed yeah, like he was trying to understand.

Sherlock looked around, “This is his hunting ground. Right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything.”

“Because all his victim disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go. Right dad?” Etheldrea asked.

“Exactly, now think. Who do we trust even though we don’t them, who passes unnoticed where ever they go, who hunts in the middle of a crowd?”

“I don’t know, who?” John asked.

“Haven’t the faintest. Hungry?”

When they entered the restaurant, John was surprised to see Etheldrea immediately walk over to a candle lit table where a blonde haired girl sat. Sherlock also seemed a bit surprised.

“Do you know who she is?” John asked.

“Not the faintest.”

Angelo came out and set the two men up, and then he walked over to Etheldrea’s table.

“Miss Holmes, it is wonderful to see you! And wonderful to meet your friend. You know this girl and her father saved my life! Anything on the menu, on the house!”

Abigail looked surprised, and when he left she asked, “Saved his life?”

Etheldrea shrugged, “It was nothing. He was framed, we proved it.”

“It was nothing? That is the coolest thing ever!”

“I’m sorry?”

“Seriously, you’re sixteen years old and you’ve stopped a man from going to prison?”

“Yes? I work with my dad on cases in my free time, although I’ve not been the best help recently.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure myself; I just haven’t felt like it.” Etheldrea said, looking down, “So you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, what was up with today? You kept blowing me off.”

“Why do you insist on being in my company?”

“Why do you reject mine?”

“Because people don’t like me. I’m annoying, inconsiderate, and-“

“Shut up, no you’re not. Just because you tell things like it is doesn’t mean you’re inconsiderate. I can understand if people think it’s annoying, but I don’t. I think you’re cool.”

“Cool, you think I’m cool. And _why_ is that?”

“You know things about me that no one knows, I’ve never told anyone about the necklace. At first I thought you were a mind reader, but you got all of that from a glance. Seriously, who doesn’t think it’s cool?”

“Everyone at school, including teachers, other people I don’t know, and the police force at Scotland Yard.”

“You work with Scotland Yard?”

“No, they consult my dad. I’m just a tag-along.”

"So how did you know? About me?"

 "Deductions, it's very easy. You just have to notice." Etheldrea said.

 "Can you teach me?" Abigail asked.

 "Sure. Look at the men that I came in with. What can you tell me about them?"

 "Well, the one with the brown hair is obviously you're father. Same looks, same features, same fashion, the only difference is your hair. Yours isn't curly, it’s straight, maybe a bit wavy."

 "Correct."

 "The man he's sitting with, is he your dad too? Which is fine."

 "I know it is, but no. He's not my dad."

 "OK, then he's a friend?"

 "Maybe, I'm not too sure yet."

 Abigail looked at him some more, and then blushed with embarrassment when he turned around and looked at them.

 "OK, I give up. Who is he?"

 "Our new flat mate. What can you tell me about him?"

 "He's got a cane. Was he injured?"

 "Yes. And what about my dad?"

 "Uh, he, um, is he nervous?"

 "Not nervous, but close."

 "Anxious then? He keeps staring out the window behind him. Is he looking for someone?"

 "Yes, a serial murderer."

 "A murderer? Really?"

 "Yes. You know those suicides in the paper? Not suicides."

 "How?"

 "Not sure yet, we're thinking poison of some sort. No clue how they take it."

 "So they do kill themselves?"

 "Well technically yes, but they don't want to. It's forced, you know?"

 "Uh, no. I'm lost now."

 "Don't worry; I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough."

 Abigail paused for a moment, taking time to think of a question.

 "Is your mother alright with all of this?"

 "I wouldn't know. It's just my dad and I."

 "Oh, I'm sorry."

 "Don't be, it's fine."

 "So, she must be where the straight hair comes from?"

 Etheldrea held a slight smile, "It's really the only thing I inherited from her. I've got my dad's personality, his looks. We're the same, him and I."

 "I can definitely see that. Can I meet your dad?"

 "Now?"

 "Sure why not?"

 "Well, he's on a case, and I don't think he wants to be disturbed."

 "Then why is he talking to your new flat mate."

 "He's testing him, seeing if he can handle the Holmes lifestyle. So far he's doing brilliantly."

 " . . . What's the Holmes lifestyle like?"

 "Erratic and ever changing, well on weekends for me. Week days I normally stay at the library until closing time."

 "Is all you do is read?"

 "No, not all the time. I research a lot for my dad too."

 "How often do you go to the library?

"I go every day, but I stay until closing about three times a week."

 "Why?"

 "Sometimes our fellow classmates follow me. I don't want them to find out where I live."

 Abigail looked disgruntled, "They aren't really that awful to you, are they?"

 Etheldrea shrugged, "I've grown accustom to it. I'd fight back, but they're not worth it. If anything, fighting back makes them stronger."

 "Have you tried telling teachers?"

 "They hate me too. No one likes someone with a higher IQ."

 "That's not fair!"

 "Welcome to the world."

 Abigail became distracted by her phone going off. She looked at the screen in horror.

 "My brother found out I'm gone. He won't tell my parents unless I get there now."

 "Alright, I'll walk you home."

 "Thanks, but you don't need to. I'm only just around the corner."

 "Still, we're looking for a serial murder. He could be close."

 "Right."

 The two girls stood up and walked towards the doors, passing Sherlock and John on the way out.

Etheldrea vaguely heard John ask "Aren't you wondering where she's going?"

 "You don't want to tell your dad where you're going?" Abigail asked.

 "It’s fine, he trusts me. Besides, my Uncle has the highest level of surveillance on me."

 "Who is he?"

 "Basically the entire government, when he's not working for the FBI or CIA."

 "Wow. So . . . He can see us?"

 "He probably watched you as you came here."

 "What?"

 "Yeah. Don't worry, he won't tell your parents. All he cares about is my safety. It’s bloody annoying.”

“I think it’s kind of sweet in a way, I mean obviously creepy, but he’s your Uncle.”

“Sweet? He watches my every move. It’s part of the reason my dad is so liberal with me.”

“Why _is_ your dad so, liberal as you put it, with you?”

Etheldrea shrugged, “Why are yours so conservative?”

“They don’t want me to get hurt. There’s no way I can defend myself against some bad guy, I’ve got no athletic what so ever.”

“I see. Well, my dad taught me self-defense when I was young.”

“What age?”

“Eight. We were on a case, and the suspect grabbed me. Afterwards, dad showed me the basics, and then some.”

“Whoa, eight? How long have you been-“

“Abigail!” a teenager called.

Etheldrea looked up and towards one of the flats. Standing at the bottom of a set of stairs was the young man she had seen earlier that afternoon. He looked beyond mad, but also slightly relieved.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

Etheldrea spoke first, “It’s my fault, I asked her to meet me.”

He looked at her, focusing deep blue eyes on hers. His glare lessened slightly, and he took a step towards her, holding his hand out. She grabbed it and shook it.

“Thank you for getting her back here.” Then he turned back to his sister, “But if you ever do anything like this again, I will tell mom and dad.”

“I’m sorry.” Abigail replied.

“Right, well, thank you Miss . . .?”

“Holmes. Etheldrea Holmes.”

“Etheldrea, eh? Lovely name. I’m Sam Grey.”

“Nice to meet you. So, Abigail, we’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Definitely. See you then.”

Etheldrea said good bye and began walking towards Baker Street. She arrived there and discovered Mrs. Hudson out for the night. She sighed and climbed the stairs to her room, but she stopped when she heard a noise form the living room.

“Dad? John? Is that you?” she asked cautiously.

She slowed her pace and neared the door to the living room carefully. It was closed, only the kitchen door was open. She slid over to the door, poked a head in, and saw no one. She slipped fully into the room, and then she saw a pair of feet on the floor, struggling slightly.

“Dad!” she shouted running towards him.

As she did, she failed to notice the old man waiting by the wall, a shot of a clear liquid in his hand. Unfazed, he grabbed her by the arm and injected it into her. She wretched herself free and tried to fight back. Instead she fell to the floor beside her dad, and sunk into oblivion.


	7. A Study in Pink Part 7

“Ethel . . . you hear me? . . . Up, get up.”

Etheldrea blinked her eyes, squinting against the light. She was still on the floor, but was being held by her father.

“Etheldrea, say something.” Sherlock asked hurriedly.

“Dad? What -” she looked up and saw the dead man on the table, “What happened to him?”

“Someone shot him through the window, I don’t know who.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. You?”

She sat up, slightly dazed, “Good, better in a while though.”

“Yes, it’ll take a few minutes for the drug to wear off. I’ll explain everything in a while. Come on, Lestrade is waiting.”

Sherlock helped her stand and supported her down the stairs. Immediately a couple medics put some orange blankets around them. The medics led them over to an ambulance and asked them a few questions. Etheldrea answered them honestly and tried shrugging the blanket off. They kept sticking it back on her, and so she stood up and tossed it off. She stood a couple feet away so they would leave her, and she watched as Lestrade strode over to them.

 “Why have I got this blanket, they keep putting this blanket on me?” Sherlock asked.

“It’s for shock.” Lestrade

“I’m not in shock.”

“Yeah . . . but some of the guys want to take photographs.”

Sherlock shook his head, “So the shooter, no sign?”

“Cleared off before we got here. But a guy like that would have had enemies I suppose, one could have been following him, but . . . We got nothing to go on.”

Etheldrea smirked as her father said, “Oh I wouldn’t say that.”

“Ok, give it to me.”

“The bullet I dug out of the wall was from a handgun; kill shot form that distance and that kind of weapon, that’s a crack shot you’re looking for. Not just a marksman, a fighter, is hands couldn’t have shaken at all. Clearly he’s acclimatized to violence.”

Etheldrea looked over towards some police cars and saw John watching them patiently. Something in her mind clicked and she nudged her dad.

“He didn’t fire until I was in immediate danger, so strong moral principle. You’re looking for a man with probably a history of military service, and nerves of steel-” He looked over and John.

He looked away and went on, “Actually, ignore me.”

“What?”

“Ignore all of that, it’s just the shock talking.” Sherlock began walking to John.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to talk about the rent.”

“I’ve still got questions for you two!”

“Oh what now? I’m shock, look I’ve got a blanket! Etheldrea is still working the drug out of her system!”

“Sherlock!”

“And I’ve just caught you a serial killer. . . More or less.”

“Ok, we’ll bring you in tomorrow.”

Etheldrea asked him, “Text me when it’s all cleaned up here, please?”

“Of course.”

Lestrade waved them off, and they walked over to John. Sherlock took the blanket off and tossed it into a police car.

John said, “Uh, Sargent Donavan’s just been explain everything. Two pills? Dreadful business, isn’t it?”

“Good shot.”

John nodded, “Yes, yes, must have been, through a window.”

“You’d know. We have to get the powder burn off your fingers. I don’t suppose you’ve served time for this but let’s avoid the court case. Are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright.”

“Well you have just killed a man.”

“Yes. It’s true. But he wasn’t a very nice man.”

“No, no he wasn’t really was he?”

“No, and frankly a bloody awful cabby.”

Sherlock and Etheldrea laughed and John scolded them as he laughed too.

“We can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene. Stop it.”

“Well you’re the one who shot him, not me.” Sherlock said as they passed closely to Donavan.

“Keep your voice down.” To Sally he said, “Sorry it’s the nerves.”

“Sorry.” Sherlock said.

“You were going to take that damn pill weren’t you?”

Etheldrea looked at her dad, “Ok, you were going to take a pill? A pill that does what exactly?”

“Kills people.” John replied.

“Of course not. I was biding my time. I knew you’d turn up.” Sherlock said.

“No you didn’t. That’s why you do it, you risk you’re life to prove you’re clever?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Cause you’re an idiot.”

Sherlock smiled, “Dinner?”

“Starving.”

“Near here there’s a Chinese place that stays open until two.”

Etheldrea looked up as a black car door opened. Her Uncle Mycroft stepped out and waited as they walked over.

“Sherlock that’s him, that’s the man I was talking about.” John said worried.

“I know exactly who he is.”

Mycroft greeted them with a thing smile, “So, another case cracked? How very public spirited. But that’s not really you’re motivation, is it?”

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked.

“As ever, I’m concerned about you and Etheldrea. I got a call form one of my men that my dear niece was walking into a soon to be murder scene.”

“Well as you can see, she’s fine.” He replied sternly.

“Always so aggressive. Has it ever accord to you that we might be on the same side?”

“Oddly enough, no.”

“We have more in common then you like to believe. This petty feud between us is childish. People will suffer.”

“Oh believe me, they already are.” Etheldrea mumbled.

“And you know how it upsets Mummy.”

“ _I_ upset her? _Me_? It wasn’t _me_ that upset her Mycroft.”

“Wait, now hold on?” John asked, “Niece? Mummy? Who’s Mummy?”

“Mother, our Mother. This is my brother, Mycroft. Etheldrea’s Uncle.” He asked Mycroft, “Putting on weight again?”

“Losing it, in fact.”

“He’s your brother?” John asked, still confused.

“Of course he’s my brother.”

“So he’s not?”

“Not what?”

“Not- oh, I don’t know a criminal mastermind?”

“Close enough.”

Mycroft groaned, “Oh for goodness sake. I occupy a minor position in the British Government.”

Etheldrea scoffed, “Define minor.”

“He is the British government, when he’s not too busy being the British secret service, or CIA on a freelance basis.”

“Don’t forget FBI.”

“I don’t work with the FBI, Etheldrea.”

“Oh please, then why’d you go over to the Quantico headquarters for nearly a year?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, “Well you’re the one who called me for help that one day.”

“Good evening Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does to the traffic.” Sherlock said, walking away.

Etheldrea and John stayed behind for a few moments.

“So when you say you’re concerned about him, you actually are concerned?” John asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“It actually is a childish feud?”

“He’s always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners.”

“Yeah, err, no. No. Uh, well, we better-” he saw ‘Anthea’, “Hello again.”

“Hello.”

“We met earlier on this evening.”

It took her a moment, and then she remembered, “Oh!”

“Alright then, good night.”

“Goodnight Uncle Mycroft. Bye Danielle.” Etheldrea said as they walked to Sherlock.

“Goodnight dear, Doctor Watson.”

“Is that her real name?” John asked her.

“Probably not. I just call her whatever I want. There’s a man who I call whatever I want to. Doesn’t make a difference, they ignore every word you say.”

“I see. So Chinese?” he asked as they met up with Sherlock.

Sherlock told him, “I can always predict the fortune cookies.”

“No you can’t.”

“He almost can.” Etheldrea said.

“You did get shot though.” Sherlock told John.

“I’m sorry what?”

“In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound.”

“Oh yes, in the shoulder.”

“Shoulder, I thought so.”

“No you didn’t.” John and Etheldrea both said.

“The left one.”

“Lucky guess.”

“I never guess.”

“Yes you do.” John and Etheldrea said in unison again.

The three walked down the street, turned right and headed straight for the only open restaurant on the block. Etheldrea ran ahead and grabbed the door for them.  The sat at a table and made their order.

"So, what happened?" Etheldrea asked her dad, "I come home and you're on the floor flailing around, and then you're by my side getting me up. Then I hear you were going to take a, and I quote 'damn pill'."

 "I wasn't going to take it."

 "Oh please, if John hadn't been there, you would have taken it."

 "You don't know that."

 "No, but I know you. So what happened? Did we miss anything?"

 "Only a couple, but I figured it out once I saw the phone. Rachel was a password."

 "That makes sense, one of those _MePhones_ right?"

 "Yes. Of you'll excuse me for a moment." Sherlock said, standing up.

 He walked away and towards the bathroom, leaving John and Etheldrea alone.

 "So Etheldrea, what do you do for fun?"

 "Other than solve crimes? Reading. I love reading. I also love being in the lab at Bart's."

 "So, do you like biology? Or forensics?"

 "Definitely. I'd like to work on the force someday, maybe add a bit of knowledge to their team."

 "Replace Sargent Donavan?"

 "Work alongside her. She may be a . . . well, she may not be very nice, but she does her job right and she's very good at it. Anderson on the other hand, well, he could be replaced."

 "Yeah, he could, couldn't he?" John laughed.

 "So what about you? What do you do for fun?"

 "Nothing."

 "Nothing, no reading, or, chess?"

 "Nothing, life's been a bit boring until recently."

 "Well, prepare to never be bored again. Uh, has dad told you anything about his . . . experiments?"

 "Experiments?"

 "Yes, he, uh, he gets bored rather easily. When he'd bored he does experiments. Sometimes it’s with plants, or random objects, and sometimes it's with . . . body parts.”

“Bod- body parts?”

“Yes, in the fridge, the microwave, stove, cupboards. Anywhere he can store them.”

“I- uh, I see.” He said timidly.

Etheldrea added quickly, “If it’s a problem, I’m sure I can convince him to keep them at Bart’s.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

Sherlock came back and asked him, “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll just be careful to keep my tea on a separate shelf.”

Etheldrea smiled, “You’re a lot more tolerant than previous persons.”

“Who lasted the longest?”

“The first one.” Sherlock replied.

“He left us after three days, didn’t realize there were body parts until he went to microwave his coffee.” Etheldrea said.

“Surprisingly, he missed the fingers in the freezer.”

“I had moved those, there hadn’t been any room for the groceries.”

John stared at them as they talked about it like it was completely normal. Then, to Etheldrea’s amazement, he started laughing. It was then she knew John was going to be a perfect flat mate.


	8. Making Friends Part 1

When Etheldrea finished getting ready for the day, she found John and Sherlock sitting across from each other in the living room. John was reading the paper and sipping a cup of tea, and Sherlock was on his laptop.

 "Finally grabbed your own computer? You didn't steal mine or John's?" She asked Sherlock.

 He rolled his eyes, but ignored her.

 "Did you sleep well John?"

 "I did, and you?"

 "Me too as well."

 "Bored." Sherlock called out.

 "Call Lestrade, I'm sure there's murder somewhere."

 "Boring."

 "Right, cause after the pink lady, nothing will ever be exciting again."

 "Don't you have school?"

 "Where do you think I'm going now?" Etheldrea said, picking up her bag from next to John's chair, "I'll see you guys later this afternoon. Bye John, bye Dad."

“The afternoon?” Sherlock scoffed, “What about the library? Are you sure it won’t be later tonight?”

 She rolled her eyes, and then turned and left as John said goodbye. He watched her, and then turned back to the paper. He looked at the words but didn't read them, thinking about the conversation he had with Sherlock the night before.

_“You don’t have a girlfriend?” he asked._

_“Girlfriend, no. Not really my area.”_

_“Oh really? Do you have a boyfriend then? Which is fine?”_

_“I know it’s fine.”_

_“So you have a boyfriend?”_

_“No.”_

_“Ok, that’s fine. You’re unattached, just like me. Good.”_

_John looked down at his meal as a small and awkward silence fell upon the table._

_“John, I think you should know I consider myself married to my work, and while I’m flattered by your interest-“_

_“No, I’m not asking you out, I’m just saying. It’s all fine.”_

_“Good.”_

_John looked towards at Etheldrea for a moment, and then turned back to his food._

_"If you're wondering about her mother, she's gone."_

_"Oh, I- I'm sorry. I didn't know."_

_"She's not dead, just somewhere else."_

_"She left?"_

_"I left her. It was in the best interest of the both of us, Etheldrea and I.”_

_“So it’s just the two of you. For how long?”_

_“Since she was born.”_

_“And you two get along just fine?”_

_“Not recently.”_

_“Why’s that?”_

_“Not sure, we haven’t talked about it.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“She’s become increasingly distant with me, spends all her time at the library. But, if she has a problem, she’ll tell me.”_

_“Well, she’s a teenager. They’re usually keen on not letting their parents know anything.”_

_“She’s not like most teenagers.”_

_“Would you like me to talk to her?”_

_“No need. As I said, she’ll tell me.”_

_John looked at Etheldrea and her friend as they stood and walked towards the door. He glanced towards Sherlock whose attention was focused on the street outside. He didn’t even take a glance towards his daughter._

_“Aren’t you wondering where she’s going?” he asked Sherlock._

_“The blonde girl got a message. Someone discovered she snuck out. Etheldrea is walking her back home.”_

_“You don’t want to know_ exactly _where she’s going?”_

_“She’s perfectly safe.”_

_“Well, we are searching for a serial killer who according to you is on his way here.”_

_“Yes. She also knows how to defend herself.”_

_John shook his head, “Do you always have a high level of trust in her?”_

_“She’s my daughter, I would trust her with anything.”_

John set the newspaper down, then stood and walked to the fridge. He was going to make some tea, but he wanted to make sure there was milk. He opened the fridge, and after a mini-heart attack, quickly shut it.

“Sherlock, why is there a bloody hand in the fridge?” he asked.

“Experiment.”  Was the only reply.

“Right, I’m going to go get milk. Do you need anything?”

“No.”

* * *

Etheldrea had barely walked up the steps to the school doors when a pair of hands roughly pulled her back and shoved her to the ground.

“So Holmes, I heard you were killed last night. Shame it wasn’t true.” A male voice said.

Etheldrea drew herself up and turned to glare at the teen that had pushed her down. Alex Widen, the same that had shoved her into the lockers the day before.

“I’m rather thankful it’s not true, my life and my father’s life were saved by an excellent person.” She replied curtly.

“Excellent? I’d say he’s the devil, leaving you and your crack-head father to roam around the world free.”

“My father is _not_ a crack-head!”

“Oh please, everyone knows he is.”

“He’s been clean for quite a few years now.”

“Once a pot-head, always a pot-head, isn’t that how the saying goes? Or do you need to correct me?”

Etheldrea appeared calm outside, but inside her anger was rising. If he didn’t back off soon, she would soon be suspended.

“Drea! Etheldrea, over here!” someone called.

Etheldrea looked to her right and saw Abigail and her brother walking towards them.

Alex sneered, “Well if it isn’t your back-up. Talk to you later Holmes.”

Then he ran up the stairs and into the school. Etheldrea brushed some dirt of the side of her coat and walked over the Abigail and Adam.

“Hey! You need to tell me everything. I woke up this morning and heard that the suicides were murder; it was all over the news! You did it! Well, they didn’t say you did, but you told me about it, so I assumed it was you, and they caught the killer, well, he was dead, but still they figured out who he was! A cab driver, can you believe it? A cab driver! And he was going to take another person and try to kill them too! It was some guy at on I think Baker Street, some dude with a girl name, Sherry, of Sheryl-

“Whoa, chill out Gabby, take a breath.” Adam said.

“Sorry, it’s just, you were right!”

Etheldrea smiled, “It’s fine, and it wasn’t really me. I was kind of passed out on drugs throughout the whole thing.”

“Wait, what?”

“I was there, that Sheryl guy is named Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.”

“Wait, you were there? You saw him? Wait, is he you’re father?”

“Yes.”

“But, he was at the restaurant.”

“Then he acted drunk, was drugged, and brought back home. I showed up after I walked you home last night.”

“About that,” Adam interrupted, “Why did you have her sneak out? What’s wrong with texting, or waiting until the morning?”

“I prefer to talk to people not my phone, and she’s didn’t disagree to sneaking out. Granted, I didn’t tell her to not sneak out.”

“Yeah, next time leave it until morning. I was scared half to death. You guys could have been picked up by that cabbie.”

Abigail rolled her eyes, “According to Drea, we were perfectly fine. Her Uncle was watching us.”

“That’s not creepy.” Adam said sarcastically.

“He’s probably watching us right now.”

“Again, that’s not creepy.”

“Don’t say probably, he is. Anywhere I am, his people are. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the adult supervisors here aren’t employed by him.” Etheldrea said.

“Right. Well, this is officially strange and beyond my level of comprehension. I’m going inside, later weirdoes.” Adam saluted them and walked inside, leaving the girls sort of alone.

Abigail watched her brother and shook her head, “Sorry about him, he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s fine, don’t apologize. He wasn’t saying it to insult us.”

The bell rang, signaling they only had a minute to get to class.

* * *

Abigail and Etheldrea walked into the lunch room together. Abigail looked around for a spot, and noticed a group of her friends sitting at a table.

She grabbed Etheldrea’s arm, “Come on.”

When they stopped at the table, all the girls glared at Etheldrea. Raquel Downing was there, sitting at the end of the table.

“Abby, you can sit here.” One girl said.

“But Holmes has to go somewhere else.” Another said.

“Why? What’s she ever done to you?” Abigail asked.

“It’s not what she’s done; it’s what she’ll do.”

“Yeah, we don’t need her revealing our daily lives.”

“Come on Abigail, sit down.” Raquel said.

Abigail shook her head and turned to Etheldrea, “Where do you normally eat?”

“I don’t eat, digestion slows me down.”

 _“Or she’s anorexic.”_ A girl at the table mumbled, and a few other girls laughed in agreement.

Abigail glared at them, then grabbed Etheldrea and pulled her away from the table.

“Then where do you usually go?” she asked.

“The library, but they don’t let you eat in there. We could find an empty table- or not.” Etheldrea said, looking around the crowded room.

“How about outside?”

“Sure.”

The two girls walked outside and found a lone picnic table where they could sit. Abigail pulled out her lunch, apple juice, a BLT, and some crisps.

“You do eat sometimes, right?” Abigail asked.

“Yes, of course. I ate last night with my dad and John.”

“Good, because I had a friend who never ate and it was really bad. She was sent to this medical facility, and she was gone for months. I wrote to her a lot. She was better when she came back, she ate, but I don’t think she did when anyone was looking. I saw her once when she thought no one was looking; she ripped a chuck of a sandwich off and hid it. I didn’t say anything though, I don’t know why. A few months after that, she was gone. She left a message on her Facebook saying she was moving and that was it. We never heard from her again. . . Sorry, I’m babbling.”

Etheldrea shook her head, “No, it’s fine. Babble all you want.”

“No, I’ll take over the entire conversation.”

“Ok, well, is it alright if I ask you some questions?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“At Angelo’s last night, you seemed a bit irritated that I’m bullied. You also seemed surprised that the teacher’s don’t do anything about it.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s stupid. No one deserves to be bullied.”

“Well, do you have any advice on how to make it stop? Or help it stop?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. Wait, you observe things about people right? What if you used it against them? Well, not like black mail, but like if one has a family problem, try to make them feel better about it. When they throw you fire, don’t toss it back, take it and extinguish it.”

“Ok, that seems simple enough. You wouldn’t believe what is going on in some of these girls’ lives.”

“I probably wouldn’t Then again, there’s a problem in every family.”

Etheldrea asked suddenly, “Why did you’re family move?”

“Dad got a job promotion. We used to live near Manchester, he works with this paper manufacturing company, and they promoted him to the factory closer to London.”

“And you were ok with that?”

“Well, not at first. I would be leaving my friends. But, then I met you and things got better.”

“Me? What makes me so special?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re different.”

Etheldrea looked confused.

“No! I don’t mean like you’re hugely different or that there’s any difference between you and the next person, I mean like you’re . . . direct.”

“Direct.”

“Yeah, like, you tell things as they are. You don’t have some elaborate story for something to seem cool, you are cool by saying things as they are.”

“Again, you’re calling me cool.”

“You are. That Raquel girl, she tried to tell me that you were a freak, but I blew her off.”

“What about the other girls, you’re friends with them and you blew them off to eat with me.”

“Of course. You shouldn’t eat alone, well, you’re not eating, but you shouldn’t spend an entire period by yourself, you should have friends.”

“I don’t have friends, never have.”

“Well, you’ve got one now. Two if you want to count my brother but you haven’t really talked to him enough have you?”

Etheldrea looked Abigail up and down, “You really consider me a friend?”

“Yes.”

“I- I’m sorry, I’m new to this.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you. It’s not hard to be a friend.”

* * *

They spent the rest of lunch just talking. The bell rang and they walked to class together. They chatted quietly to each other as the period went on, only stopping when the teacher shushed them, but continuing as soon as they thought they were clear. The next two periods were the same. Then, the last class was unfortunately devoid of Abigail, and Etheldrea had to face Raquel alone.

After the bell rang and school was to end, Raquel Downing pulled Etheldrea into an empty class room and forced her to sit in a chair.

“So, Abigail’s got some fierce loyalty to you Holmes. Are you sure someone’s not paying her? Really, who would want to be friends with you?”

“I don’t know, ask her. She, unlike you, gave me a chance to be a friend.”

“Please, do you even know how to be a friend? Are you going to be there when she’s crying because her boyfriend broke up with her? Are you going to gossip about the latest boy bands? That’s not you; you’re a freak who can’t do anything normal.”

Etheldrea gripped the back of the chair tightly; attacking Raquel would not do any justice. The only time it did was when she was chasing down criminals.

“I will be there for her when she needs me and the same goes for me. If she wants to talk about boys, fine. If I want to talk about murders, great. She explained to me what friends do, and I assure you, I am perfectly aware of what it takes to be a friend.”

“She had to explain to you what friends do? Wow that is _pathetic._ ”

“Well Raquel, considering I never have had a friend before, because _you_ consider me a freak, I think it’s beneficial to me.”

“Holmes, you aren’t considered a freak, you _are_ one. There’s a difference, I’m sure you know that.”

Etheldrea stood up and proceeded to walk out of the room, but she stopped and turned to take a long look at Raquel. She decided to try Abigail’s advice.

“It’s not your fault. It’s your dad’s.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The drinking problem of his, it’s his fault. Don’t let his anger shape you because, frankly, it makes you a bitch.”

Raquel looked shell-shocked, “How can you p-possibly think he-“

“I deduce things, remember. I don’t think, I know. You should tell the police, or an adult. Brushing it off won’t make it better or disappear, and you’re only getting angrier.”

Raquel was nearly crying, a hand over her mouth, and her knees shaking. Etheldrea turned out of the room and left, walking down the hall to Abigail’s locker.

“Hey! What took you so long?”

“I was . . . talking to Raquel.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I tried you’re advice. I’m not sure if it worked though.”

“Well, we’ll have to wait and see I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“So, I’ll call you later?” Abigail asked as they left the school.

“Sure. I don’t think we have a case tonight. I should be free.”

“Great, see you later.”

The girls split in different directions, and Etheldrea headed for the library. As she passed the end of the school, she saw Raquel walking out of the building. Raquel raised her head and saw Etheldrea, and then quickly looked and the ground and continued walking away.

 _Maybe,_ Etheldrea thought, _things will get better._


	9. Making Friends Part 2

Thursday afternoon, Abigail and Etheldrea walked to the Gray’s house. Abigail’s brother followed behind them, but played on his phone, ignoring them.

As they walked, Abigail dug around in her back pack and pulled out an envelope which she handed over to Etheldrea.

“At the end of the March, I’m having a birthday party. I don’t think a whole lot of my friends are coming, considering the drive, but I figured you might like that.”

“I’ll ask my dad, but I’m sure I’ll be able to make it. Thanks.”

“Thank you! Hey, when is your birthday?”

“November 11th.”

“What do you usually do on your birthday?”

“Whatever I feel like doing. When I was thirteen, I managed to strike a deal with my Uncle. I’m completely free on that day, no matter what’s going on.”

“Free meaning he’s not watching you?”

“Yes. What about you? Do you usually have parties?”

“Not always. Last year, Mom and I went clothes shopping. I had five hundred dollars at my disposal. The year before that, we went out to eat. It changes year to year.”

Another ten minutes later, they arrived at the Gray’s. Adam immediately went to his room. Mr. and Mrs. Grey weren’t home yet, so Etheldrea couldn’t meet them. They walked up to Abigail’s’ room, and she flopped on the bed.

Etheldrea looked around the room. A cluttered desk with tangled jewelry, scraps of paper, and broken pencils. One small bookshelf with more magazines then books. A rather worn book on Elvis Presley sat on the top. Above the shelf was a poster of the same man. In the corner of the room an over flowing basket of laundry sat. Next to it, a half empty cardboard box sat.

“Still unpacking?” she asked with a smile.

Abigail laughed and shrugged, “I’m lazy, and besides, what’s so exciting about unpacking? It’s boring at the least.”

“I agree. My dad, John, and I are still sorting things around the flat. I figure we’ll never be done.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Abby, mom says it’s your turn to do dishes.” Adam said.

“I’ll do them later.”

“She just called, she wants them done now.”

Abigail groaned into her pillow, “But I’m hanging with Drea.”

Adam groaned back, “I don’t care.”

He leaned against the door frame and watched as Abigail trudged to the kitchen. Etheldrea followed behind, but sensed herself being watched. She looked behind her and connected eyes with Adam.

“Abigail tells me you can read minds.” He said.

“Not exactly.”

“Then what is it you do?”

“Deductions. They’re easy enough when you know what to observe.”

“And what do you observe?”

“Everything.”

“Alright then, what do you know about me?”

“You’re a music lover. Obvious by how often you have ear buds in, the music collection that’s all over your room, and the Beatles t-shirt you’re wearing just adds to that. You enjoy the presence of people, but prefer to be alone or in a group of two or three. I’ve seen you walk around school with your friends, you hang in the back but you still talk with them. You have a slight social anxiety, judging by how fast you were to get to your room. It’s not over powering, but it’s nice to be able to be completely by yourself every now and then. I know the feeling.”

He stared at her with a neutral expression, “Easy I suppose.”

“Oh but that’s not all.” Etheldrea stepped closer and lowered her voice, “I also know that you lied about the dishes. You bite the inside of your cheek when you lie. It is your turn to do the dishes, but tricked you into doing them a couple days ago. This is your revenge, but don’t worry, I won’t tell her.”

“Why?”

“She tricked you. As funny as I find it, house work should be equal among siblings if they are close enough in age.”

He nodded, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She turned to leave, but Adam grabbed her hand, “Wait. How’d you know Abby did the dishes a few days ago?”

Her hands are soft but dry. The soap you have is a moisturizer, but it has an alcohol base. If she had done them last night, her hands would just be soft, not dry.”

He nodded again and stepped back, looking her over, “You got all that from looking?”

“Observing.” She corrected.

“Right.”

“I know. It’s unusual.”

“Honestly, it is. Sorry, but I don’t find it as cool as Abigail. But it’s not like you’re killing people with it.”

“Is that what they told you at school?”

“Not exactly.”

“Normally I leave this be, but considering we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, I’m not what the rumors paint me out to be.”

“I never said you were.”

Etheldrea nodded, and then turned and walked to the kitchen. Abigail was just finishing the dishes.

“Hey, I was wondering where you were.”

“I was talking with your brother.”

“I’m sorry, did he bother you?”

“No, not at all. He was very courteous.”

“Adam? Seriously?”

“Yes. He had questions, I gave him answers.”

Abigail shrugged, “Weird. Anyway, what do you think about the field trip to the museum tomorrow? I’m not too excited about it, but I’m sure you are.”

Etheldrea nodded, “Yeah, I am. I’ve always found history fascinating.”

“What’s the exhibit about again?”

“Tea. There’s going to be a demonstration there too.”

“Tea, lovely.” Abigail said sarcastically.

“What do you have against tea?”

“Nothing, I love drinking it. I just don’t care about the history. Knowing that tea came to us from India isn’t going to change its flavor.”

“China, not India.”

* * *

The next morning, the entire Year 11 class was loaded onto a bus and on their way to the Museum of Natural History. Etheldrea and Abigail sat near the front, watching the city roll by. Most of the kids were bored already, groaning about how terrible the trip would be. The two teachers chaperoning had already given up on trying taming them.

After a grueling twenty minutes, Abigail yelled freedom upon exiting the bus. Etheldrea laughed and rolled her eyes.

At the doors, an Asian woman met them.

“Hello, my name is Soo Lin Young. I will be your guide for the day.”

The students gathered around and followed Miss Young as she showed them around. The first half of the morning was dedicated to the limited exhibition, and the rest would be free reign.

“The art of tea making began in Ancient China.” Soo began.

While most of the student’s and both of the teachers’ faded in and out of the lesson, Etheldrea listened with interested. Abigail tried, and she did better than most, but she paid more attention to her phone than the tour.

Finally, it came to the demonstration. Soo had the students sit down in front of an empty display while she went to gather a tea set. She set it up and prepared a brew while she explained the art.

“Great artisans say, the more the teapot is used, the more beautiful it becomes. The pot is seasoned by repeatedly pouring tea over the surface. The deposit left on the clay creates this beautiful patina over time. Some pots, the clay has been burnished by tea made over four hundred years ago.”

She held the pot up and spun it in slow circles to show the class. In the light, it had a dull shine. The demonstration continued with many yawns, sighs, and coughs. When the class was dismissed for lunch, they all but ran to the dining hall. However, Etheldrea waved Abigail away and walked up to Soo Lin Young.

“Miss Young, thank you for the tour. I found it extremely enjoyable.”

Soo smiled, “Thank you. It is rare for someone of your age to appreciate the value here.”

“I guess I’m one of a kind.” She shrugged.

“I have seen you before I think, a couple months ago. You were here on your own.”

“Historic places are often my haven. I try to come once a month.”

“Then you know a lot of the history.”

“Practically the entire museum.”

Soo considered Etheldrea for a few moments, “How often are you free?”

“A considerable amount of time, why?”

“How would you like to be my assistant? I can’t pay you, but perhaps you could work under me.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all, it would be an honor.”

“Thank you! When will I begin?”

“Next week Monday, after school?”

“That sounds perfect.”


	10. Making Friends Part 3

Etheldrea studied the teapot in her hands carefully, cradling it gently. She took note of the small crack running down the side, and the chip in the handle. She set the pot down and wrote down her findings on a sheet of paper. She picked up the pot again and searched for any imperfections she could have missed.

It was her first day working under Soo Lin Young, and she wanted to make sure she did it perfectly. Soo had tasked her with observing a few of the tea sets.

"Miss Holmes, how old do you believe this particular pot is?” Soo asked as she supervised.

“Three hundred at the very least. Four hundred at most.”

“How do you know?”

“The clay used to make this pot.  Red Stone and Sandstone. It was used often in the Shang Dynasty age.”

“Very good. Now, is there anything you can tell me of the pot’s history?”

“Well, that would be nearly impossible if it weren’t for the symbol on the bottom of the pot. I’ve also read a few books on Ancient Asian symbolism. The markings on the underside mean General and family. From that I can infer that this pot was served to an Ancient General, and his family.”

“You’re very intelligent Miss Holmes. I believe good things are in store for your future.”

* * *

Etheldrea ran alongside John as they chased after the escaping suspect. They ducked down alleys, around garbage bins, and around fences. They were close behind him when he turned right at a building.

“Slow down, move off to the left!” Etheldrea yelled to John.

“Why?” he asked, but followed her instructions.

John got his answer soon enough. As they rounded the corner, there was a clatter of steel on pavement. The suspect fell to the ground, Sherlock standing behind him holding a plank of wood. Lying next to the suspect was a steel pipe.

“It’s about time you two got here, I’ve been waiting ages.” Sherlock said.

Etheldrea rolled her eyes with John.

“We were a bit busy chasing after _him_.” John said pointing to the unconscious man.

“You should have chased him to the alley over a hundred meters back, would have saved everyone some time.”

“Well sorry, but we couldn’t exactly steer him in the right direction.”

“SHERLOCK!” Lestrade called, running over to them.

“Inspector, as you can see, we apprehended the criminal.”

“Thanks.” He turned and called over his shoulder, “Donavan, come make the arrest.”

Etheldrea walked away from the group as Lestrade began to question Sherlock. She watched the criminal where he laid, a small trail of blood above his eyebrow. She glanced up and looked down the backstreets where she and John had run, wondering slightly how she still had the energy to do so after her long day.

While she, and everyone else, were distracted the suspect slowly regained consciousness. As he regained his focus, he pretended to still be under. When he thought he was fine, in a flash he stood and started running. He grabbed a broken glass bottle off the ground and made a grab for Etheldrea.

She dodged out of the way, but he was able to grab the lapels of her coat, and the back collar of her shirt. She fell from the sudden stop, and he stood her up while holding the bottle to her neck.

“One move and this pretty little thing is gone.” He threatened.

Etheldrea winced as the sharp bits of glass poked under her jaw. Her hands were under his arm in and attempt to push him away. She didn’t panic though, waiting for her opportunity. She wasn’t going to be the victim this time again.

“Ok, ok.” Lestrade said, “Just calm down. Let her go.”

He tightened his grip, “Not a chance. I’m going free, or she goes to the grave.”

“We can’t do that.”

“Too bad.”

He shifted his grip from around her collar to her shoulder. That idiot.

Now was the perfect opportunity for her. Simultaneously, she pushed his hand away and used the heel of her boot to step on his foot. He let go of her shoulder, and she turned to face him, using the same brown boot to kick him backwards. He fell back, and she ran away from him.

John grabbed and pulled her close, “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Perfectly fine.”

“Gain a friend?” Sherlock asked.

“Oh yes, he’s lovely.”

“Sherlock.” John said sternly.

He glared at the man as Lestrade and Donavan put the handcuffs on him. He pushed her back and over towards the cars. John tilted her head back and looked at her jaw.

“You’ve got a few cuts, nothing horrible, and nothing bleeding.” He told her.

“Good. Can we go to Baker Street now?”

“As soon as Sherlock’s finished talking with Lestrade I’m sure.”

Etheldrea leaned against a car and folded her arms.

“How did you know he would wait? The criminal I mean?”

“Better safe than sorry. It happened once before, and the suspect got away.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear.”

“Don’t be. Lestrade caught him a few days later.”

“So Scotland Yard’s not completely useless.” John laughed.

Etheldrea smirked, “He only caught him because dad learned about the hide-out.”

Sherlock walked up to the two of them, “Either of you fancy take-out?”

“The great Sherlock Holmes is actually going to eat?” Etheldrea asked, “Why, you haven’t done that in days.”

“Ha. Ha. The case is done, and I’m starving.”

“Then I suppose we can. What do you think John?”

“Sounds perfect, only if I get the fortune cookies.”

* * *

“So how’s the museum project going? You’re there every other day, right?” John asked Etheldrea.

“Every other day, yes. It’s great, it’s absolutely fantastic. Soo Lin is a great mentor. I get to use the teapots. Did you know some of them are over four hundred years old? I’m literally holding history in my hand.”

“That’s great. Do you fancy getting a job there?”

“Maybe. I tried a few years back, but they said I was too young. Besides, a job at the museum for someone my age would no doubt be a janitor.”

“But you hope to work for law enforcement, right?”

“Yes. Scotland Yard needs somebody with brains.”

Sherlock scoffed, “Why would you want to work for those idiots? You’d be beneath Donavan.”

“But with time, I could be on the same level as her, if not above her.”

“When you apply, you should be on the same level as Lestrade.”

Etheldrea smiled at the complement as she ate her spicy chicken.

“How long have you wanted to work in law enforcement?” John asked.

“Years. As soon as I could comprehend the world. And as soon as I realized we were faster than Scotland Yard.”

“So you _are_ a consulting detective.”

“Not at all.” Sherlock said, “She’s not allowed.”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes, “I’m not allowed a title. I can help yes, but he forbids that I take on a title. I’d attract far too much attention, although it’s impossible to do that with Uncle Mycroft watching my every move.”

“What?” John asked.

“Highest level of surveillance. It’s bloody annoying. Anyway, he’s the worlds’ only consulting detective. I’m just below his assistant.”

“In the past six months, how often have you been part of a case?” Sherlock asked.

“Eight.”

“Compared to twenty-seven.”

“So I haven’t helped with that many cases? What’s the big deal?”

“You used to help on every case.” He mumbled, sulking back.

“Well, that was before secondary school.”

“You’re passing all your classes with straight A’s.”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes, then stood and picked up her trash. She walked over to a bin and dumped, then walked out the door. John watched her, and looked at Sherlock, expecting him to do something.

“She can be such a child.” Sherlock muttered.

“She can be a child? What’s childish about caring for her grades?”

“She’s always been a straight A student. She would have the ability to move up a grade level, but she chooses to stay in the same age group.”

John shook his head, stood with his trash, and went to throw it out. Then he walked out and followed after Etheldrea. She was walking down the street, and she took a right.

John ran after her, “Etheldrea wait!”

She turned and slowed down, waiting for him. When John caught up, he held out his arm which she took in hers.

“Are you alright? You walked out of there quickly.” He asked.

“I’m fine, he just gets infuriating sometimes. I mean, it’s my life, I can do what I want.”

“Of course.”

“If I want to focus on grades, I can. If I want to solve cases, I can. He’s never happy.”

“Unless it involves making him happy.”

“Exactly.”


	11. Holmes History Part 1

John Watson had been living with the Holmes for over three weeks, and he couldn’t have been happier.  Each day was filled with some sort of excitement, but also some tensions.

He didn’t notice when he first met them, but there was a lot of strain between the father and his daughter. Etheldrea was often away from the flat, and when she was there, she was in her room with the door closed. If there was ever a case, she would accompany the men, but hardly ever gave her opinion if Sherlock was within ear shot. If she could talk to Lestrade alone, then she would. Sherlock seemed to brush it off, distancing the pair even more.

One weekend morning, Lestrade called them in to solve a case. A jewelry store had been broken into, and a body had been found. A selection of diamonds was also missing. The trio went at once.

“The freaks are here.” Sally called to Lestrade.

“Sally,” Etheldrea called in greeting, “Anderson’s wife still doesn’t know I see. You know, her sister works at my school. I could pass the information along.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, not at all. Just stating something a Good Samaritan would do. Of course, I’m not entirely good am I? But that can change.”

Sally spoke to her lowly, out of ear shot of everyone else, “Listen here pip-squeak, you don’t know what you’re talking about, so shut up and go do what Lestrade asked you to. Remember, I can always go to the super intendant and get you thrown out of these scenes, forever.”

Etheldrea would have spat back an insult, but she knew that she needed to tone it down. If she was thrown out of the scene, then so would her dad. So she popped her collar, turned on her heel and followed after the two men.

The scene wasn’t entirely gruesome, hardly any blood, or mess from the glass. Sherlock stood near the cash register, and by her, John looked over the body. She stood next to him and looked over the dead man as well.  After a look around, Sherlock walked over to Lestrade.

“This man broke in here an hour before the store was supposed to open. No cameras, so we can’t see anything, and there’s no evidence where he hid the diamonds.” Lestrade told him.

“You think he did this alone?” Sherlock asked incredulously.

“There’s no evidence that he had a partner. What can you tell me?” Lestrade asked him.

“Obvious robbery gone wrong for the dead man. He had a partner.”

“How do you know?”

“The soles of his shoes, well-worn. Coming in I noticed dirt marks in a particular pattern. The dead man’s shoes don’t have that pattern. The dead man had plans to leave the county, probably with the diamonds. Plane ticket in his open pocket, hasn’t left yet. My guess is partner knew and killed the man.”

“And the partner is there anything you can tell me about him?”

“He’s size 12. He’s the one who broken the glass door, the dead man is too short. The door was broken from the top and kicked in from the bottom. My guess is 6 feet 2 inches. He left out the back, if he left out the front, some of this glass would be outside the do-”

“Etheldrea, John, we’re leaving.” Sherlock called suddenly.

“What? Why?” Lestrade asked.

“It was the manager, find him, you’ll find the diamonds.”

“How do you know that?”

“The back door locks from the outside and the inside, you need a key to get in and out. Only the manager has it. We’re leaving.”

Sherlock stalked out of the door, and John waited for Etheldrea. The pair said going bye to the DI and followed after Sherlock. He stopped a taxi and let John and Etheldrea get in, then he shut the door.

“I’ll get the next one; I have some business to attend to.” He told them.

That same weekend afternoon, Sherlock was still out of the flat and John made the announcement that he was going shopping. Surprisingly, Etheldrea asked if she could come. John said yes, and the two took a cab to the nearest Tesco.

As they walked around grabbing items off a list John made, he asked Etheldrea, “Why did you want to come?”

She shrugged, “I just wanted to.”

“Oh.”

You don’t mind do you?”

“No, not at all.”

As she stuck a box of tea bags in her basket, she said, “You wanted to ask me something. You have for a while now.”

“Uh, yes, yes I have.”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you ok?”

She seemed confused, like she hadn’t expected that question.

“Yes, I’m fine. What would make you think otherwise?”

“Well, I know we’ve only know each other for a while, but something seems . . . off between you and your father.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You, I wouldn’t say avoid him, but you tip-toe around him.”

“I do?”

“You haven’t noticed?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“It’s just; I’ve noticed you’re different at times. Like, when you’re at home you always have something to say. But, when we’re on a case, you stay in the background. You only really only talk when you’re asked.”

“Oh.”

“Has it always been this way? I don’t mean to pry; it just seems odd for you.”

Etheldrea was silent for a few moments, “. . . No, no it hasn’t. Usually, I’m just as annoying as my dad at crime scenes. It’s the only time I felt safe to show off.”

“Why did it change?”

“I’m not sure; it’s been a slow buildup of things I guess.”

“What kind of things?”

“Dad or I getting hurt. It’s happened before. We get close enough to the suspect and they attack. There have been loads of times when it was my fault.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is though. Remember a few weeks ago I we were chasing after that criminal. I told you to move off to the left. I’ve done the opposite before.”

_Etheldrea and Sherlock were sprinting at the same speed. The suspect, guilty of murder, was running away from them, gaining more speed than they were. He was a couple blocks away, and if they didn’t catch up, he would be long gone._

_Etheldrea forced herself to run quicker, and she past her dad and was nearing the suspect. He turned a corner of an ally-way, and Etheldrea ran harder._

_“Etheldrea! Slow down!” Sherlock called behind her._

_But she didn’t, picking up more speed in a desperate attempt to catch him. She reached the corner of the building and turned, but stopped short as she ran into the criminal himself. She didn’t even have time to duck as he swung a discarded two by four and knocked her unconscious._

The suspect got away, dad stopped running to check on me. I was so stupid; I should have known he could have waited. I’m lucky he didn’t find a pipe.”

“That’s not your fault, that’s an unfortunate event.”

“Other times it is. I’m not as experienced as my dad is when tracking criminals.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s been a time when it’s his fault.”

“Well yeah, he’s not perfect. But, most of the time it’s my fault.”

“Is that why you’re so silent at crime scenes?”

“I guess, maybe, I don’t know.”

“You should talk to him. Maybe get a clear understanding.”

“No, I don’t need to. It’s fine. Besides, Donavan tells me all the time I should stay out of the way.”

“You listen to Donavan?”

Etheldrea snickered, “I do the opposite.”

John placed a bag of bread in his basket, “I think that’s it. Did we miss anything?”

“Not that I can see.”

“Alright, let’s check out.”

The pair walked straight to the self-check outs. Etheldrea placed the items in the bags as John scanned them.

_“Item not scanned.”_

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” John said.

Etheldrea looked up as John scanned the bag of lettuce again.

_“Item not scanned.”_

Etheldrea grabbed the bag form John’s hands and entered the code into the machine. With a beep, it showed up on the screen and she placed the lettuce in a bag.

“Thanks. These bloody things hate me.”

“You’re welcome. We’ve all been there.”

_“Place item in shopping bag area.”_

“It is!” John and Etheldrea shouted together.

* * *

Over half an hour later, the groceries were paid for and they were happily on their way home. The cab ride was quick, and they brought the bags up to the kitchen. However, neither was prepared for what was inside.

Lestrade sat in Sherlock’s chair with his feet crossed, while several men and woman rummaged around the flat.

“Detective, pardon me, but what the hell is going on?” Etheldrea asked.

“Drugs bust.” He replied.

Etheldrea stiffened and quickly pulled out her phone, punching in the numbers for Sherlock’s phone. He picked up nearly immediately.

“ _What’s wrong?”_ he asked.

“Get to Baker Street now. Lestrade is pulling a drugs bust.”

_“I’m on my way.”_

“Dad, if he finds _anything_ -“

_“I’ll be there in two minutes.”_

Then he hung up, leaving Etheldrea still rigid. If they found anything, she was going to tear him a new one.

“He’ll be here in two minutes.”

“A drugs bust?” John asked.

Etheldrea turned to him, “John, keep it down.”

“Seriously? Sherlock Holmes, a junkie?”

Etheldrea smacked his arm, “John, it would be best if you shut up now.”

He looked her in the eyes, “No. Him? Really?”

Just then, Sherlock came running up the steps. He ran straight to Lestrade.

“Why?”

“I need information that you didn’t give me.”

“So you pull a fake drugs bust?”

“If they find anything, it won’t be fake.”

“But there’s nothing here, right dad?” Etheldrea asked, crossing her arms.

Sherlock glanced towards her, but didn’t answer her question. She glared and stalked to her bedroom. However, she found her bedroom occupied by Sally Donavan.

“Get out.” She said.

“Sorry sweetheart, I got to check all rooms. You know, your room is actually kind of normal. Although far too many books for the average teenager. How many books do you have?”

“Three hundred and twenty-three. Are you finished?”

“No.”

Sally walked to the closed and opened it. She patted around the top shelf and found the painted white wood box. She brought it down and twisted the key.

 “Put that back.” Etheldrea said.

“Sorry, I have to look at everything.”

Etheldrea strode to Sally as she opened the box and took it from her hands. She opened the top for a second and a half and then closed it and twisted the lock, and took the key out.

“There, you saw. Nothing, just a couple pictures and some jewelry. Are you finished?”

Sally sighed, “Yes.”

She walked to the door, Etheldrea watching her every movement.

“Was that you’re mother?” Sally asked.

“What does it matter? Leave.”

She raised her hands, “Alright, alright. Touchy subject.”

Sally finally left and Etheldrea relaxed. She stuck the key back in her box and set it back on its shelf. She took off her coat and scarf, and then sat at her desk. She tapped her fingers on the desk as she waited for the team to leave. She could hear her dad shouting profanities at Anderson. Most of them were right; his IQ did lower the entire street. Possibly the entire world.

Finally, she heard them leave, and she immediately ran to the living room. Sherlock sat in his chair now, with John across form him.

“Well, did they find anything?” she asked.

“No.” Sherlock replied.

“Would they have found anything?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

With a slight hesitation, he replied, “No.”

Etheldrea clenched her fists and headed back to her room. She put on her scarf and coat, and walked out of the landing and down the stairs, calling out ‘I’m going for a walk’ for John’s sake.

“Wait,” John called, “I’ll go with you.”

She waited at the bottom of the steps as he trotted down the steps, and the two walked out and down the street.


	12. Holmes History Part 2

Etheldrea said, “You didn’t have to come John; I’m sure my presence at Tesco’s was enough.”

“Never. Talking with you is great.”

“The same can be said about you. “

“Do you usually do this when you’re mad? Take a walk?”

“Yes. I also read, but I’m not in the right sort to read at the moment.”

“I would think not.”

Etheldrea sighed, and prepared to give a spiel, “I’m sure you want to know more concerning the ‘drugs bust’. Any questions you have, just ask away.”

“How’s school?”

She did a double take, and looked at him oddly, “I’m sorry?”

“How’s school? You’ve been talking with that girl and her brother a lot, Abigail was it? Is she a good friend?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, it’s been great. She’s fantastic. She invited me to her birthday party next weekend.”

“That’s fantastic. What are you going to get her?”

“Honestly? I have no clue. I’ve known her for three weeks, four days, and I have no clue what to get her.”

“Well, what does she like?”

“Clothes, make-up, jewelry, fashion, everything I detest.”

“How are you two friends?”

“‘Opposites attract’, that’s the saying right? Look at you and my dad.”

“Well, what if we looked at a few shops? I’m sure there’s some sort of shirt or necklace she’d like.”

“Yes, but, this is a birthday. On birthdays, you should get people something that matters, something that shows them you know who they are. A shirt saying ‘You’re cuter when you don’t talk’ isn’t exactly that kind of gift.”

“Has she said anything? Or maybe pointed out something?”

Etheldrea racked her brain, thinking about all the time she had spent with Abigail Gray. So far nothing was coming to mind.

“Wait a minute, yes! A few weeks ago, I was at her house and I noticed a worn copy of an Elvis Presley biography lying on her book shelf. I also noticed several incarnations of Elvis Presley books, and I think one poster.”

“That’s a great place to start. Something Elvis. What about a necklace with his picture on it?”

“I’ve got a better idea. She likes writing too; not a huge amount, but she keeps a journal or a diary. I know a place that sells custom print journals.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“I couldn’t have done without you, you gave me a push.”

They continued walking, turning at random corners and streets. Soon they ended up at the park and sat down at a bench. Etheldrea played with her hands as John looked around, enjoying the day.

“I was six when he began using.” She said.

“You don’t need to tell me about this. His business is his business.”

“Yes, but it partially involves me, and you should know. Besides, we might have more ‘drug busts’ in the future.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

“I was aware of a lot more than your average child, I’m sure you can presume that. But, he was good at keeping it hidden. He would leave in the mornings or the afternoons and come back during the night. I never realized anything was wrong until I was seven.

 _Etheldrea stared at the door of her bedroom, waiting for her father to walk in like he usually would._ Pirate Queen: Life of Grace O’Malley _sat on her lap, patiently waiting to be finished. She glanced at the clock. 22:27. He was late._

_Etheldrea lifted the covers of her bed spread and climbed out. She tip-toed into the living room where Mrs. Hudson sat watching telly._

_“Mrs. Hudson, did daddy call you?”_

_The woman turned with a sad smile, “No dear, but I’m sure he’ll be her-“_

_The front door opened, and Sherlock walked in. At first glance, everything seemed fine, but Etheldrea felt a prickle on her back like something was wrong._

_She ran to her dad and wrapped her arms around his legs._

_“Etheldrea, why aren’t you sleeping?”_

_“I was waiting for you. You always read to me before I go to sleep, remember daddy?”_

_He grabbed Etheldrea and lifted her up that she rested on his hip._

_“Ah, of course, how could I be so silly?”_

_Etheldrea giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck._

_“Thank you Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock said._

_“Just this once dear, I’m not a babysitter.”_

_“Didn’t she say that last time?” Etheldrea whispered._

_“Shh.”_

_They wished Mrs. Hudson goodnight, and then Sherlock brought her back to bed. Sherlock lay on the bed with Etheldrea leaning on his chest and an arm wrapped around her to hold the book. Before he began reading, Etheldrea looked up and noticed something odd._

_“Daddy, why are your eyes red?” she asked._

_Sherlock shook his head, “It’s nothing to worry about. Now, where were we?”_

That was the first time he came home still high. He did it loads of times, and sometimes that was all I could see, his eyes a burning red. Then there were times when he just wasn’t himself.  It scared me so much. Then one day out of the blue, he sat me down and explained that he would be going away for a while. Only a few months, and I could visit him on weekends. He got better after that, and I realize now it was a rehab.”

“Where did you stay? While he was gone?”

“With Uncle Mycroft, well, with one of his hired nannies. I’d see him from time to time, but I was always with some lady.”

“It sounds like you went through a lot of them.”

“Oh yeah. I could give the children form _Nanny McPhee_ a run for their money. Anthea was the only one who could control me, and she wasn’t even a nanny. Anyway, ever since, it hasn’t exactly been easy. He’s not allowed any type of drug, even cigarettes, Lestrade knows this. Sometimes, I catch him with a package, and I make him flush it. I’ve never caught him with anything beyond that though.”

“What caused him to get help?”

“I don’t know, I never asked.”

After that, John changed the subject, and the two chatted for half an hour.  It was near five when the two began walking back to Baker Street. Upon arriving, Etheldrea went straight to her room. John wandered into the living room where Sherlock sat unmoved.

John took a seat opposite Sherlock, and grabbed the remote.

“I assume Etheldrea told you about my history.”

“What she knows of it.”

“She doesn’t know why I stopped, does she?”

“No, not at all.”

“Because of her.”

“You stopped because of her?”

“Yes. My brother threatened to take her away. Obviously I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“You care a lot for her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Sherlock answered anyway.

“Of course.”

“You know, she told me why she hasn’t been helping.”

“She did?”

“Yes, earlier, while we were at Tesco’s. She thinks- How often do either of you get hurt?”

Sherlock was silent, contemplating for a few moments, “With cases from Scotland yard, not very often.”

“But cases from outside the Yard?”

“A rather large amount. That’s the thing about criminals; most of them will do anything to stop from getting caught.”

“Well, Etheldrea thinks it’s her fault that you two get hurt.”

“Why would she think that? More often than not, it’s the criminal’s fault.”

“Listen, I’ve not an expert, but I had some similar experiences with Harry growing up. I think you should talk to her, and let her know it’s not her fault.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything and John thought maybe he was being ignored. That is, until the detective hopped from his chair and strode towards his daughter’s room. Curious, John stood and followed quietly to see the outcome. He stood outside the door, peeking in past the frame.

Etheldrea sat on her bed with a book. Sherlock grabbed her nearby chair and pulled it up next to her.

Sherlock told her “There’s been a bit of a rift in the case.”

“Case, what cas- Oh, right, the whole lying to Lestrade thing. That’s why he pulled a ‘drugs bust’”

“Yes, there’s been a rift, and I need your help.”

“Why? What’s going on?” she asked, sitting up.

“The manager was found dead, and there were no signs of the diamonds.”

“How was he murdered?”

“Stabbed, with a sword.”

“So there’s a sword waving diamond thief on the loose. This shouldn’t be that hard, start by look into sword registries. You hardly need my help, ask John.” She said before turning back to her book.

“But I need _you_. Regardless of the dang- we are a team, remember?”

John watched as Etheldrea looked up, and slowly began to smile. There was a spark in her eyes that had been missing before. It seemed that everything she worried about was put behind her.

“What do you need?”


	13. The Blind Baker Part 1

It was Monday, and Etheldrea was working in the museum. Soo Lin Young had given her the chance to actually use the tea pots. Carefully, she poured and swirled, and poured again onto the green teapot.

“Do you see how much the pot shines now?” she asked with a soft smile.

Etheldrea nodded, “It’s beautiful.”

“What gives the teapots their patina?”

“Oxidization. I’d say this pot was originally made of copper, judging by the green colour. It’s the same as the Nordic Embassies in Berlin, or the Statue of Liberty in New York.”

“Very good. You’re very good at this. Perhaps in the future, you can work here and not just as my assistant.”

“That would be fantastic, but I’m not so sure. After school, I plan to go into law enforcement.”

“I see. That sounds like a very promising career for you.”

An hour later, Etheldrea finished, and headed towards the library. To her surprise, Abigail was there.

“What are you searching for?” she asked Abigail.

“Anything on ancient china.”

“That’s a rather extensive list. Is this for the history essay?”

“Yes.” Abigail pulled out a book, and then put it back.

“You know that’s due next week?”

“I know, and that’s why I’m starting it now.”

“Why didn’t you start it two weeks ago when it was assigned?”

“Who does that?”

“I finished three days after it was handed out.”

“Yeah but you’re you! You’re smart, and organized, and on top of it all, you work at the museum and solve crimes!”

“It’s not about being smart or organized; it’s about getting a head start.”

Abigail smiled and walked to another shelf, “Well, I prefer slow and steady.”

“Well, you’re going as slow as you possibly can. You’re in the wrong part of the library.”

* * *

Tuesday came and went without incident, as did Wednesday morning. Etheldrea arrived at the museum and walked to the Antique Offices. A woman with curly brown hair looked up as she entered. Soo Lin Yao wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“I’m looking for Miss Yao.” Etheldrea stated.

“I’m sorry, she resigned yesterday.”

“Oh, why?”

“Family problems. I’m sorry dear, but you won’t be coming in anymore.”

Etheldrea nodded her head, “Alright. Have a good afternoon.”

She turned and walked back the way she came. She grabbed a cab and spent the entire ride thinking about Soo Lin Yao. On Monday, she had given no sign that she planned to resign. She had seemed very content with her work, in fact it was her life. Why would she give it up? Etheldrea knew that family problems were important to some people, but were they so bad as to make her give up her job?

When Etheldrea arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock’s experiment was oozing over the table. It was a small pile of a gross, thick, yellow sludge that surrounded a few beakers, and a flask. Fortunately it had no odor, and was placed atop a baking sheet to save the table.

“Dad, how many times have I told you, clean up the experiments before I come home.” She called.

She didn’t receive an answer, making her more alert. She turned left and walked down the hall towards his bedroom. He wasn’t there, nor in the bathroom, or anywhere else in the flat. She walked to the fridge for the milk, but when she opened it, all she found was a severed arm and a note from John.

_You're father used just about everything in the kitchen for his experiment. I went to the shop, I'll be back soon. - JW_

She shook her head and muttered to herself, "Really dad?"

From a drawer she pulled out a pair of chemical gloves, put them on, and cleaned up the goop. As she finished and put away the gloves, she heard the front door open and running up the steps. Sherlock entered the living room, depositing his coat and scarf in the closet.

"Aren't you early?" He asked Etheldrea.

"Miss Yao resigned today; I won't be going to the museum anymore."

"Oh, what a shame. Shouldn't you be at the library then?"

She shook her head, "Are you trying to get me out of the flat? Speaking of, I thought we made a deal. Experiments need to be cleaned up before-"

She stopped as she heard a man yelling downstairs.

"Etheldrea, get to your room."

"Dad, who did you piss off this time?"

As a man ran into the flat, brandishing a giant sword, Sherlock ducked into the kitchen. Quickly, he turned and kicked the man in the back, face planting him into the kitchen table.

"Brilliant, a man with a sword this time. At least it's easier than the man with a Taser." She muttered, taking a step into the landing and running to her room.

From her room, she grabbed the coat stand, shaking off her scarf and coat, and hurrying back into the living room. The sword man ran after Sherlock into the living room, spinning and twirling the sword around, and cornering Sherlock on the sofa. Sherlock kicked him and he fell back into the fire place.

Etheldrea ran at him, and hit him full force in the head. It didn’t stop him, and he slammed the sword down on the stand, nearly cutting the tip of her nose. Sherlock punched him, and she fell back. The man jumped to his feet and forced Sherlock back onto the coffee table. Sherlock kicked the sword man, and Etheldrea hit him in the head once again, allowing her father to escape.

She positioned the stand at her side and ran into the sword man, but he grabbed the stand. She let go, and sword man swung it at her, hitting her in the side. She fell to the floor besides the piles of books. The sword man swung his sword as Sherlock ducked.

“LOOK!” he yelled pointing behind him.

Stupidly, the sword man looked, and Sherlock punched him once more. The sword man fell into the black chair. Sherlock fixed his jacket, and then turned away with a smirk. He grabbed Etheldrea’s hand and pulled her to her feet.

“You did good.” He said.

“Thanks.”

“But next time listen to me.”

He walked past her and grabbed his phone to call Lestrade, and in a matter of minutes he was there. Lestrade cuffed the sword man, and left. Then Sherlock grabbed a book and sat down in his chair. Etheldrea walked over to the kitchen table and looked at the scratch that was there.

“Mrs. Hudson’s not going to like that.” She said.

Sherlock ignored her and continued to read. Moment later, John walked up the steps, and into the living room.

“You took your time.” Sherlock muttered.

“Yeah, I didn’t get the shopping.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I had a row in the shop with a chip and PIN machine.”

“You . . . you had a row, with a machine?”

“Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got any cash?”

Sherlock smirked and nodded over towards the fireplace, “Take my card.”

“You could always go yourself, you know. You’ve been sitting there all morning, you’ve not moved since I left. And what about that case? The Jaria diamonds?”

“Not interested.”  Etheldrea watched her father push the sword under his seat, “I sent them a message.”

John saw the scratch on the table, and for a minute Etheldrea thought he would ask about it. Instead, he sighed, and left. Etheldrea walked to her bedroom, grabbed a book, and walked back to the living room. She took a seat on the sofa and read for an hour. At some point, Sherlock got up and grabbed John’s laptop.

John came back and brought the groceries to the kitchen. Etheldrea stood to go help him, while Sherlock ignored them both.

“Is that my computer?” John asked.

“Of course.”

“What?”

“Mine was in the bedroom. Etheldrea’s was too.”

“And you couldn’t be bothered to get up? It’s password protected.”

“In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours, not exactly Fort Knox.”

“Right. Thank you.” John said, closing the computer and taking it away.

John sat in his seat and looked at Etheldrea.

“Don’t you go to the museum?”

“Miss Yao resigned yesterday.”

John looked disheartened, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll leave me more time to help on cases.”

“Well, did you have a good time at school today?”

“It was school, nothing good comes of it.”

John nodded his head in agreement, and then looked to the right where small piles of papers sat. He looked through them and sighed.

“I’ll need to get a job.” He muttered.

“Oh dull.” Sherlock said.

John sighed and leaned forward like he was about to do something very hard, Sherlock, listen, if you would be able to lend me some- Sherlock, are you listening?”

“I need to go to the bank.”

Sherlock stood, grabbed his coat and scarf, and walked out the door. Etheldrea ran to her room for hers, and then followed Sherlock with John behind them.


	14. The Blind Baker Part 2

A cab ride later, they were walking towards a large, glass building. With Sherlock in the lead, they walked through the rotating glass doors and up an escalator. They stood in front of a secretary.

“Sherlock Holmes.” He said.

The secretary called for her boss, and they were led to his offices. A man walked in a few minutes later. To Etheldrea, he was slightly familiar.

“Sherlock Holmes.” He said.

“Sebastian.” Sherlock greeted, shaking his hand.

“Hiya buddy. How long- eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?”

“You remember my daughter, Etheldrea.”

“Hello Mr. Wilkes.” She said, shaking his hand.

“You were just a little girl last time I saw you, look how you’ve grown. Good to see you.”

“This is my friend, John Watson.” Sherlock said.

“Friend?”

“Colleague.” John corrected.

“Right, well. Grab a pew. Do you need anything? Coffee? Water?”

“No thank you.” They all muttered.

Etheldrea took a seat in-between her father and John.

“So, you’re doing well. You’ve been abroad a lot.” Sherlock said to Sebastian,

“Well, so?”

“Flying all the way around the world twice in a month.”

Sebastian scoffed and told John, “Right, you’re doing that thing again. We were at uni together, and this guy here had a trick he used to do.

“It’s not a trick.” Sherlock muttered.

“He could look at you and tell you your whole life story.”

“Yes, I’ve seen him do it.”

“Put the wind up everybody, we hated it. We’d come down to breakfast in the formal hall and this freak would know you’d been shagging the previous night.”

Etheldrea prepared to say something, but Sherlock grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She took a breath and tried to relax. She didn’t remember much about Sebastian, but she did he remember how much of an ass he was.

“I simply observe.” Sherlock said.

“Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world, you’re quite right. How could you tell? Are you going to tell me there’s a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan? Is it the mud on my shoes?”

“No, I was just chatting with your secretary outside.”

Both John and Etheldrea looked confused, as Sherlock hadn’t talked with anyone while they were waiting.

Sebastian laughed, and clapped his hands, “I’m glad you could make it over. We’ve had a break-in.”

“Where?”

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you.”

They all stood and followed Sebastian to an unused office.

“Sir William’s office- the bank’s former chairman. The room’s been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night.”

“What did they steal?” John asked.

“Nothing. Just left a little message.”

Wilkes opened the door and they saw yellow spray painted symbols on the wall. One next to a portrait, and another line across the portraits eyes. Etheldrea pulled out a small notebook and pen that she always kept in her coat, and marked down the symbols.

Sebastian brought them to his office once more and showed them the security footage of the break-in. The first showed nothing out of the ordinary, just a clean room and no marks. Then a minute later, the yellow symbols were there.

“So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around and left within a minute.”

“How many ways into that office?”

“Well, that’s where this gets really interesting.” Sebastian mused while leading them to the front desks, “Every door that opens in this bank, it gets locked right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet.”

“That door didn’t open last night?”

“There’s a hole in our security. Find it and we’ll pay you- five figures.” He pulled out a check, “This is an advance. Tell me how he got in. There’s a bigger one on its way.”

“I don’t need an incentive, Sebastian.” And then he walked past and towards offices.

Etheldrea inwardly groaned and followed him. He had pulled out his phone and was starting to take pictures of the symbols.

“Dad, why didn’t-“

“We’re on a case, this can wait.”

“Right.”

Sherlock put his phone away and then walked towards the window. He pulled the blind, opened the glass, and then stepped out on the ledge. Etheldrea grasped the back of his coat.

“I’m not going to fall, Etheldrea.” He muttered, looking around.

“You say that now. You won’t be saying anything when you’re a bloody mess on the ground.”

Sherlock stepped back into the room, closed the window, and walked into the cubicles. He stood in the back and sashayed around the pillars, ducking here and there. Etheldrea stood next to John, watching with a bemused look on her face. Finally, he stopped in one of the workers offices, pulling his nametag from a slot. Sherlock walked out, and past uttering for John and Etheldrea to follow him.

“Two trips around the world this month. You didn’t ask his secretary, you said that just to irritate him.” John said while Sherlock smiled, “How did you know?”

“His watch.” Etheldrea said.

“His watch?”

Sherlock answered, “The time was right, but the date was wrong. It said two days ago. He crossed the date line twice and didn’t alter it.”

“Within a month? How did you get that?”

“New Breitling. Only came out this February.”

“Ok. So do you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?”

“Got everything I need to know already, thanks. That graffiti was a message. Someone on the bank, working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and . . .”

“They’ll lead us to the person who sent it?”

“Obvious.”

“So I don’t need to go researching any mysterious symbols?” Etheldrea asked.

“Not yet.”

John asked, “Well, there’s three hundred people up there, who was it meant for?”

“Pillars.”

“What?”

“Pillars and the screens. Both very few places you could see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And, of course, the message was left at eleven thirty-four last night. That tells us a lot.”

“Does it?”

Etheldrea shrugged, “Traders work all hours. The man or woman working around midnight would have seen the message. Someone working with Hong Cong, right dad?”

“Precisely. Not many Van Coons in the phone book.” Sherlock said, holding up the name plate.

He called for a taxi, and the three piled in. Sherlock gave the address and after a while, they found themselves in front of a buzzer. Sherlock pressed it, but received no answer.

Etheldrea hung back and checked her phone. As they had left the taxi, her phone had vibrated. It was a message from Ethan Burke. He was the manager form the store where she brought Abigail’s birthday present. She had ordered it last week, and it was ready for pick up.

She looked up just as her father was talking sweetly to a woman through the speaker.

“. . . I’ve just locked my keys in my flat.”

_“Do you want me to buzz you in?”_

“Yeah. And can I use you balcony?”

_“What?”_

Etheldrea shook her head, “Well, good luck on your adventure. I’ll meet you at Baker Street tonight.”

“Where are you going?” John asked.

“Abigail’s gift came in, and the shop closes in a couple hours.”

Etheldrea said goodbye, and then hailed a cab. A while later she walked through the shop’s doors and towards the back. At a counter, a young man with purple and teal hair sat flipping through a clothing magazine. As she approached, he looked up and smiled.

“Miss Holmes.” he greeted.

“Mr. Burke. “

“The last time I saw you, you ordered a . . . leather bound journal and a fountain pen engraved with M.H. Far more formal then this. What’s the occasion?”

“A friend’s birthday.”

“Whoa, hold up, you have a friend?”

“Yes, the journal?”

He rolled his eyes and reached below the counter, pulling out a brown gift bag, and pushed it towards her.

“There you go, gift wrapped and all. That’ll be twenty quid.”

She checked it over, making sure there wasn’t and damage, and then paid and went to leave, but Ethan stopped her, “My brother says he can’t wait to see you again.”

“Tell Raz that I’m still sixteen, and even if I wasn’t, he wouldn’t have a chance in hell.”

“Hey now, nineteen isn’t that much of a jump.”

“Too far for me.”

She turned and walked out of the store, and then turned right. No doubt the men were still investigating Van Coon, she might as well take a walk. Down a few streets was Chinatown, and she had a lot of time. As she walked, a thought grew in her head. She could try to find Soo Lin Yao.

Hurrying her pace, she arrived at the busy section of London and wove in-between crowds of people. She stopped by a vendor and asked about her former mentor, but the man didn’t know anyone by the name. The next vender didn’t know either.

After searching for nearly twenty minutes, she found a flower vendor who knew Soo Lin Yao. He gave her directions, and before she left, she bought a small bouquet of blue and white delphiniums, carnations, and myrtle. She walked down the street and looked at the door next to a Lucky Cat Emporium. On the ground sat a new edition of the phone book in plastic packaging. On the side of the door was a paper name tag written in flowery script, _Soo Lin Yao_.

She buzzed the bell and waited for a few moments. Slowly, the door opened and Miss Yao looked through the crack. When she saw it was Etheldrea, she forced a smile and opened the door fully.

“Miss Holmes, I did not expect to see you here.”

“I know, I should have given you some prior warning. It’s just that, I heard what happened, and I wanted to give my condolences.” She held out the bouquet.

Soo took the bouquet with a mod, “Thank you. I’m sorry I did not let you know, it’s just been very hard.”

“Don’t be. I understand. If it was my dad, well . . .”

“Would you like to come in?”

“No, it’s alright. I have to get home.”

“Alright then. If I may ask, how did you find me?”

“I asked around. The man at the flower cart a few streets down pointed me here.”

“I see. Have a good evening Miss Holmes.”

“And the same to you Miss Yao.”

Etheldrea turned and the door shut behind her. She walked away from Chinatown and down Dean St, towards the subway. It wouldn’t take less than ten minutes to get there, but it had started to rain. She pulled her collar tight around her scarf and neck, and sped up her pace. When she reached the corner of the street, a black car resting there opened it’s door.

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and got in. Across from her sat Anthea, or Andromeda, or what other name she called herself.

“You’re texting my Uncle right?”

“Yes.” She said, not even looking up.

“Tell him that I can the tube like any other normal citizen.”


	15. The Blind Baker Part 3

The next day, Etheldrea woke up and got ready for school. She sat at a very small clear spot at the table with John.  A couple days after he moved in, she had taken up to sitting with him to drink tea. Sometimes, he could convince her to eat a bit of breakfast.

“I’ve got a job interview.” He was telling her, “I should finish just before you get out of school. I could come pick you up?”

“There’s no need for you to do that, John. Besides, I need to stop off at the library. Dad wants me to do some research on the symbols found at the bank. Since Van Coon is dead, we’re at a bit of a loss.”

When she had arrived home later last night, John had filled her in on what happened at Van Coon’s.

“Alright, if you’re sure. Would you need any help?”

“I’ll be fine John.” She said, standing and putting her plate in the sink, “Have fun, and good luck with the job interview.”

She left for school and arrived a bit later than usual. She met with Abigail in the first period class room.

“Do you know what’s Saturday?” Abigail asked, bouncing in her seat.

“You’re birthday, how can I forget? You’ve asked me every day since Monday.” Etheldrea laughed.

“I just don’t want you to forget. I want you to be there, and I can’t wait for you to meet my friends!”

Etheldrea sat up straighter, “About that. Abigail, you know I’m not . . . normal. I really don’t think your friends will like me.”

“Oh this again? Look, if they don’t like you, they can leave. If they were really my friends, they won’t care.”

They chatted until class began, and during lunch. The two part ways after school, Abigail and her brother heading home, and Etheldrea heading to the library.  She walked up the steps, and immediately headed towards the reception desk.

“Excuse me; I’m looking for books on ancient symbols.” She asked the librarian.

“That’s a bit extensive. Is there a type of language you need?” he asked.

Etheldrea pulled out her notebook and showed the librarian. He studied the scribble and shook his head.

“I’m not sure what they are or how to find them, but I’ve seen these before, at another library. This morning, I was browsing and saw these behind a set of books, I alerted the managers, but I’m not sure if they took care of it yet.”

“Which library?” Etheldrea asked excited.

“West Kensington. It won’t help you understand the symbols though.”

“That’s quite alright, thank you.”

Etheldrea turned and hurried outside. She grabbed a cab and texted Sherlock.

**West Kensington Library.  – EH**

Just a second after she sent it, a message came in from her father.

**West Kensington Library. – SH**

**Great minds think alike. – EH**

**That they do. –SH**

Waiting at the top of the stairs to the library was Sherlock and John. The three walked inside and up the escalator, following Sherlock.

“The librarian didn’t know how to find the symbols without knowing the language.” Etheldrea told them as they walked, “but he said that he saw the same symbols here earlier this morning.”

“Brian Lukis, a journalist, was killed last night. He’s our lead right now.” John told her.

Sherlock opened the book, “The date stamped on the book is the same day that he died.”

He stopped in one section of the book shelves and started looking through. John and Etheldrea followed suit. It was John who pulled back the books and uncovered the yellow painted symbols. They were the exact same symbols from the bank.

They left the library and started walking.

“So the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher at the bank. Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, lock himself in. Hours later, he dies.” Sherlock summed.

“The killer finds Lukis at the library, he writes the cipher, on the shelf where he knows it’ll be seen. Lukis goes home. Later that night, he dies too.” John finished.

Etheldrea asked, “Why did they die?”

“Only the cipher can tell us. Etheldrea, your friend Raz-“

“He’s not my friend, he’s a bloody annoying prick who can’t take no for an answer.”

“Where is he this time of day?”

“How should I know? Probably in his usual area behind the museum.”

“Perfect, we’re nearly there. The world’s run on codes and ciphers. From the million pound security system at the bank to the PIN machine you and Etheldrea take exception to. Cryptography in habits our every waking moment.”

“Yes, ok, but. . .”

“But it’s all computer generated. Electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It’s an ancient device. Modern code-breaking methods won’t unravel it.”

“Where we headed?” John asked.

“I need to ask some advice.”

“What? Sorry?” he asked with a small smile.

“You heard me perfectly. I’m not saying it again.”

“You need advice?”

“On painting. Yes, I need to talk to an expert.”

Etheldrea groaned, “Oh no, don’t tell me.”

“Raz is the only expert I know.”

“He’s a sleazy rat.”

“His body will be in the Thames before he can make a move.”

“I’ll help.”

“I’m sorry, who’s Raz?” John asked.

“A disgusting, egotistic, arrogant, self-centered pig who thinks I fancy him all because of a case we had a couple years ago. I had to act like a love sick puppy to get him to agree to help us. I played the part fantastic, so fantastic that now every time he sees me, he tries to hit on me.”

They rounded the corner and saw a young man spray painting the image of an officer on a door.

“Part of a new exhibition.” Raz told them, “I call it, Urban Bloodlust Frenzy.”

“Catchy.” John mumbled.

“I’ve got two minutes before a Community Support Officer come around that corner. Can we do this while I’m working?”

Sherlock handed him the phone and Raz tossed a can of paint to John.

“Know the author?” Sherlock asked.

“I recognise the paint. It’s like Michigan, hard-core propellant. I’d say zinc.”

“And what about the symbols? Do you recognise them?”

“I’m not sure it’s even a proper language.”

“Two men have been murdered, Raz. Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them.”

“And this is all you’ve got to go on? It’s hardly much, is it?”

“Are you going to help us or not?”

Etheldrea could see hesitation in his eyes, “Please Raz? It would mean a lot.”

He smirked at her, “I’ll ask around.”

“OI!” a man yelled behind them.

Sherlock knocked the one can out of Raz’s hand and they took off running. Only John was left behind to take the blame. Once they were a safe distant away, Sherlock and Etheldrea headed back to Baker Street.

“Hey Ethylene, call me sometime.” Raz called.

“Never, not in a million years, and my name is _Etheldrea_.”

“Whatever. You know where to find me.”

She rolled her eyes, “I wish I didn’t.”

Sherlock called a cab and when the two arrived, they both went into deep thought.

“You know, the more I think about, the more I feel like I’ve seen these symbols.” Etheldrea said, “It might have just been a glance, but- or maybe I’m just overthinking.”

“Perhaps you need to think more.” Sherlock mused as he walked past her and down the landing.

Etheldrea waited until she heard the door close before closing her eyes. When she opened them, she was standing outside of a large building. In front of her were three tall French windows with stained glass ensigns at the top. If she peaked in, she could see her Uncle sitting with his back to her. She turned around, walked past the white bush of Wisterias, and down the brick path of the garden.

While Sherlock had a “palace”, Etheldrea had Mycroft Holmes estate. Normally, she wasn’t allowed to wander the halls, but that didn’t matter. She loved to wander the gardens and surrounding forest areas. You couldn’t see much of it in London, and so it had become her memory trick.

As she walked through the garden, she pulled at the branch of a flower covered tree. All around her, white petals floated down, and she caught a few in her hand. As she touched them, they changed to a dark blue colour. She recognised the petals as carnations, and it triggered something.

She continued walking, passing the blue and white carnation, and seeing myrtle and delphinium flowers. She thought of the symbols and tried comparing them with the flowers. Nothing came to mind. Etheldrea didn’t remember what was so special about these three flowers. She grabbed a bunch of the flowers and put them together in one bouquet.

_Bouquet._

The quiet and calm of the garden turned into the noise and bustle of the city. She remembered where she had seen that bouquet. Chinatown. When visited Soo Lin Yao. In the back of her mind, she could see black symbols very similar to yellow but she still had no idea what they were.

Etheldrea closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was back in 221 B Baker Street. She grabbed her coat and scarf, and hurried down the landing and out the door passing Sherlock on the way.

“Did you figure it out?” he asked.

“Almost. I need to go to Chinatown.”

Before he could ask anymore, she was already grabbing a cab and leaving the area. When she arrived, she immediately headed for the place where the flower vendor was. To her surprise, he was gone. Confused, she asked a passing person about him.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I’ve never seen a flower vendor in this area before.” she was told.

Still confused, she began looking all over Chinatown. After an hour and multiple dead-ends, she literally ran into John and Sherlock.

“Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died. Whatever was hidden inside that case, I’ve managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information – credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, and then he came here.”

“Sherlock.” John interrupted.

“Somewhere in this street, somewhere near. I don’t know where, but-“

“That shop, over there.”

“How could you tell?”

“Lukis’s diary. He was here too. He wrote down the address.”

“Oh.”

Etheldrea smirked at her dad’s expression and followed after John.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” John asked her as they walked towards a shop called the Lucky Cat.

“No. It seems my only lead doesn’t exist.”

“How?”

“I’d like to find out.”

A bell rang over their heads as they walked into the shop. John said hello ton old woman at the back of the store. The trio search around the store, not really knowing what to look for.

“You want lucky cat?” the woman asked.

“No, thanks, no.” John said.

“Ten pound! Ten pound! Your wife, she will like.”

“Uh, maybe.”

John picked up a tea cup and called the Holmes over.

“The label there.”

“I see it.” Sherlock said.

“It’s exactly the same as the cipher.”

“This must have been what I saw yesterday, a price tag.” Etheldrea said.

“Follow me.” Sherlock said, walking out the door, “It’s an ancient number system- Hang Zhou. These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank, and at the library. Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect.”

Etheldrea looked at the number written on a stand and compared them to the symbols.

“It’s a fifteen.” John said, “What we thought was the artist’s tag, it’s a number fifteen.”

“And the blindfold, the horizontal line. That was a number as well. The Chinese number one.”

“We found it.”

Sherlock turned and walked toward a restaurant. Etheldrea followed and John trailed behind them.”

“Did you see that?” John whispered.

“See what?” she asked.

“Uh, well . . . nothing I guess. Eyes playing tricks on me.”

Etheldrea shrugged and walked into the restaurant, sitting down at a spot by the window. Sherlock sat down next to her, and John across from them.

“Two men travel back from China, both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see?” John asked.

Sherlock replied, “It’s not what they saw. It’s what they brought back in those suitcases. Think about what Sebastian told us. About Van Coon, about how he stayed afloat in the market.”

“He lost five million.”

“Made it back in a week. That’s how he made such easy money.”

“He was a smuggler.”

“His cover was perfect.” Etheldrea said, “Businessman, trips to Asia. Lukis, a journalist writing about China.”

“Exactly.” Sherlock said, “Both of them smuggled stuff out. The Lucky Cat was their drop off.”

“But why did they die?”

John added, “It doesn’t make sense. If they both turn up at the shop and deliver the goods, why would someone threaten and kill them after the event? After they finished the job”

“What if one of them was light fingered?” Sherlock asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Stole something. Something from the hoard.”

“And the killer doesn’t know which of them took it so he threatens them both.”

Sherlock looked out the window, distracted by something by the Lucky Cat emporium.

“Remind me, when was the last time that it rained?” he asked, standing and walking to the door across the street.

Etheldrea and John followed, and as Sherlock looked at the yellow phone book, Etheldrea noticed whose place it was.

“Miss Yao lives here. The mysterious disappearing flower vendor pointed me here.”

“The phone book has been here since Monday.” Sherlock said, pushing the doorbell.

It rang very loud, but no one came to answer the door.

“Etheldrea, I need you to tell me everything about your encounter with Miss Yao. How she acted, reacted, dressed, everything.”

“Well, she was sad. Something happened within her family, so that’s to be expected, but she also seemed a bit nervous. She was almost afraid to open the door, but when she saw it was me, she relaxed a bit. Although, she did tense up when I told her the flower vendor pointed me here. As for her clothes, they seemed fresh.”

Sherlock walked around the corner.

“No one’s been in that flat for at least three days.”

“But I saw Miss Yao yesterday.” Etheldrea said.

“It was just a pass by. She was getting a change of clothes, you just happened upon her at the wrong time. Her windows are open.” He pointed up at the second story.

Sherlock jumped and grabbed the latter, climbing up and through the window. John and Etheldrea ran to the front door. John rang the doorbell but Sherlock didn’t come open it for them.

“Do you think maybe you could let us in this time?” John asked through the mail slot.

No answer.

“Can you not keep doing this please?”

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and leaned against the door frame, “It’s no use. When he’s absorbed, there’s not talking to him.”

 _“I’m not . . .”_ Sherlock was muffled.

“What?” John asked.

_“Some . . . fore me.”_

“What are you saying?”

_“Size. . .”_

“I can’t hear him. I’m wasting my breath.” John tried ringing the doorbell again.

Another minute passed before John shouted through the mail slot again.

“Anytime you want to include us. Oh I’m Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no one else can compete with my massive intellect!”

A few minutes later, the door opened and Sherlock stepped out supporting a hoarse throat. Etheldrea noticed the disarray of his scarf and shirt. She was about to ask what happened, but Sherlock interrupted.

“The milk’s gone off and the washing’s starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago, only returning yesterday for a very short while.” He chocked a bit on the last part of the sentence.

“Somebody?” John asked.

“Soo Lin Yao.” He nodded, “We have to find her.”

“How exactly?”

Sherlock bend down and picked up a scrap of paper that had been lying inside the doorframe, “We could start with this.”

“You’ve gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?”

Sherlock coughed, “I’m fine.”


	16. The Blind Baker Part 4

Etheldrea walked around the area as Sherlock questioned a young man named Andy. She stopped by the tea ceremony cabinet and looked it over. Two of the tea pots were shiny, but the last time she had been there, only one was. The last time she checked, only Soo Lin Yao had access to those pots and to get someone else to learn the full ceremony would take a few days, longer then she had been gone.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Sherlock asked.

“About three days ago. Here at the museum. This morning they told me she’d resigned. Just like that. Left her work unfinished.”

“You thought it was strange too?” Etheldrea asked.

“Yes, how- oh, right. You worked with Soo Lin for a few weeks now.”

“What was the last thing she did on her final afternoon?” Sherlock asked.

 Andy asked them to follow him to the basement where the storage was.

“She does this demonstration for the tourists, a tea ceremony. So she would have packer up her things and just put them in here.”

Sherlock and Etheldrea were both distracted by a statute decorated with yellow numbers. Immediately, the three left the museum.

“We have to get to Soo Lin Yao.” Sherlock said.

“If she’s still alive.” John mentioned.

Etheldrea defended, “Of course she is, we would have found her body. She’s hiding I’m sure, and I think I know where.”

“SHERLOCK!” a man shouted at them.

“Oh look who it.” John said, less than impressed.

Etheldrea crossed her arms and glared as Raz came up to them.

“Found something you’ll like.”

They followed Raz down the street towards the bridge.

“Tuesday morning, all you’ve got to do is turn up and say the bag was yours.” John told Raz.

“Forget about your court date.”

“Court date?” Etheldrea asked.

“Yes, thanks to you lot running off earlier this afternoon, I’ve gotten an ASBO.”

“Oh no, John, I‘m sorry. But in our defense, you should have run.”

“Here we are.” Raz said, pointing to a skating court.

The walls were cover from floor to ceiling in graffiti. White, blue, black, green, and every other colour formed pictures and words.

“You want to hide a tree then a forest is the best place to do it. People would just walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message.”

“There,” Raz pointed, “I spotted it earlier.”

“They’ve been here. And that’s the exact same paint?”

“Yeah.”

“John, if we’re going to decipher this code, we’re going to need to look for more evidence.”

Sherlock started walking away, prompting John to follow him. Raz grabbed Etheldrea by the wrist and pulled her back.

“Hold on, how about you and I get to know each other a little better tomorrow evening?”

“Sorry, I’ve got better things to do.”

She yanked her arm away and started to walk, but turned back quickly and faced Raz.

“Although, I do need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Tuesday, turn up and claim the bag for john.”

“Hell no, I don’t want or need an ASBO.”

Etheldrea glared and grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking down until their noses almost touched.

Hissing, she threatened, “You will, or I will find you and make you pay. Remember my Uncle? Fat, but scary? If you don’t, you’ll have the whole of the British Empire on your ass, and I’ll be at the front ready to take you down.”

She released him and turned on her heel, running to catch up with Sherlock and John. As they walked outside, they split up, Sherlock in one direction, John and Etheldrea in another. The two walked under a bridge, and followed a set of train tracks. They didn’t find much until they came to an abandoned brick wall. It was covered in the yellow symbols. John stood back, and took a picture, and then tried to call Sherlock.

He didn’t answer, and after several tries from both of their phones, John left in search of him while Etheldrea stayed to watch the wall. As soon as John disappeared, she heard the snap of a twig behind the wall.

“Hello? Anyone there?” she called, cautiously taking a wide arc over.

_Oh, stupid, stupid. Why would they answer? It’s like in horror movies. The killers not going to go “Oh yeah, I’m in the kitchen! Want a sandwich?”_

She was a good ten feet away from the side of the wall, but there was no one there. She walked closer, hoping that it wouldn’t turn into a game of avoidance. But to her surprise, there was no game, only the flash of white fabric jumping from off the top of the wall. It wrapped around her throat and choked her, trying as hard as it could to extinguish her life.

Etheldrea fought hard, kicking her attacker from behind, and clawing with one hand towards her attacker’s arms. With her other hand, she tried to keep the white fabric away from her throat, but was having difficulty.

After a few more moments, her movements grew weak and she was exhausted. Her attacker lowered her to the ground, and she didn’t move except to hack and catch her breath; only slightly faking unconsciousness. She kept her eyes closed and listened to the sound of spray paint. She could only guess what was happening, and thank god that John had snapped a picture. She rested for a bit and slowly sat up, still having difficulty breathing. In her hand, she noticed a black origami flower.

John and Sherlock were just in view and running towards her. Confusion shown on both of their faces as they saw her on the ground, and the now completely black wall.

“Etheldrea, what happened?” Sherlock asked.

“I got attacked. He tried to strangle me.” She said, handing him the flower.

John knelt down beside her, “Are you alright?”

“No, John, I’m dead. Of course I’m alright.”

He helped her up and looked back at the wall.

“It’s been painted over. I don’t understand. It was here. Ten minutes ago. How could he have had enough time?”

“He was quick. He stroke just after you left. Only took him four minutes, and then another three to paint it over. He was quick, and he has to be.”

“Somebody doesn’t want me to see it.” Sherlock said, looking around, and then grabbing John by the head.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?”

“Shh! John, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes.”

“What? Why? Why? What are you doing?”

“Dad?”

“I need you to maximize your visual memory. I’d ask Etheldrea, but considering her attack, I deem it unwise. Now, try to picture what you saw.” Sherlock said, spinning John around.

“Uh, dad?”

“Can you picture it?”

“Yeah.” John said.

“Can you remember it?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Can you remember the pattern?”

“Yes.”

“How much can you remember?”

“Loo, don’t worry.”

“Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate.”

“Well don’t worry, I remember all of it.”

“Really?” Sherlock asked sarcastically.

“Well at least I would, if I could get to my pockets. I took a photograph.”

John pulled out his phone and showed it to Sherlock.

“Always in pairs. Numbers come with partners.”

“Why did he paint it so near the tracks?” Etheldrea asked.

“Thousands of people pass by there every day. He wants information.”

“He’s trying to communicate, but communicate what?”

“Whatever was stolen, he wants it back, and it’s hidden somewhere in this code.”

Deciding there was nothing else to do, since the mystery man was gone, they began to head back to Baker Street. As they passed the museum, Etheldrea pulled the men off to the side.

“We need to find Miss Yao.” She said.

“Yes. Earlier, as we left the museum, you said you might know where she is?” Sherlock asked.

Looking around to make sure no one heard, she whispered, “The museum. Two pots were shiny, when there should have only been one. Soo Lin Yao is the only person with clearance to those artifacts.”

John nodded, “Alright, but how do we get in?”

“Lucky for you, I conveniently forgot to hand in my museum clearance pass.”

Etheldrea took the lead and they walked around to the museum back doors. She swiped the card, and the door opened. They stepped inside just in time to see a small figure walk past the door thirty feet away.

“Miss Yao.” Etheldrea whispered.

“She was carrying something, the tea set I presume.” Sherlock said.

“I know where she’s going, follow me, and keep quiet.”

At a faster than usual pace, they walked to the door and quietly followed Soo Lin Young. They watched for a few moments as she started the tea ceremony, and then Sherlock began to approach her.

“Fancy a biscuit with that?” he asked, scaring her and causing her to drop the pot.

On reflex, Sherlock caught it, “Centuries old. Don’t want to break that.”

Soo Lin Yao seemed to know why he was here, “You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me.”

“You’ve been clever to avoid him so far.” John said, walking with Etheldrea to form a group.

“Miss Holmes, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. This my dad, Sherlock Holmes, and our flatmate John Watson.”

“I had to finish this work. It’s only a matter of time. I know he will find me.”

“We won’t let him hurt you.” Etheldrea promised.

“Who is he? Have you met him before?” Sherlock asked.

She nodded, “When I was a girl, we met in China. I recognise his signature.”

“The cipher?”

“Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu.”

“Zhi Zhu?” John asked.

“The spider.” Sherlock replied.

Soo Lin began to take off her shoe and showed them a black ink tattoo of a lotus.

“Do you know this mark?” she asked.

“It’s the mark of a Tong.”

“Huh?” John asked.

“Ancient crime syndicate, based in China.”

“Every foot soldier bears the mark. Everyone who hauls for them.”

“Hauls?” John asked.

Etheldrea looked at John like he was missing the picture, as was Soo Lin.

“You mean you were a smuggler?”

“I was fifteen, my parents were dead, I had no livelihood. No way of surviving day to day, except to work for the bosses.”

“Who are they?”

“They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds worth of drugs into Hong Cong. I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England. They gave me a job, here.” She smiled at Etheldrea, “I gained a lovely assistant. Everything was good. New life.”

“And then he came looking for you.”

“Yes. I hoped that after five years maybe they would have forgotten me. But they never really let you leave. A small community like ours they are never very far away.”

Etheldrea asked, “The flower vendor, he was one of them, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen.”

“You have no idea what it was?” John asked.

“I refused to help.”

“So you knew him well when you were living in China?”

“Yes. He’s my brother. Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus or starve on the streets like beggars. My brother has become their puppet; in the power of the one they call Shan. The Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away; he said I had betrayed him. Next day I came to work, and the cipher was waiting.”

Sherlock pulled out a piece of paper where he had copied the symbols and passed it to Soo Lin.

“Can you decipher these? We know they are numbers, but what is the code?”

“All the smugglers know it, it is based upon a book-“

Around them, the lights flickered off and a door thudded somewhere in the building.

“He’s here.” Soo Lin whispered, “Zhi Zhu has found me.”

Immediately, Sherlock took off, John calling after him to wait. John grabbed both girls by the wrists and pulled them behind a cabinet.

“get in, and wait here.” John said.

“John, I want to he-“Etheldrea started to say.

“No, absolutely not.” Then crouched near them.

In the distance they heard a gunshot, and then another, and two more.

“I have to go help him, bolt the door after me.”

John left them, and more gunshots soon followed. After a few moments, the gunfire ceased and carefully Soo Lin stepped out of the cabinet. She turned to Etheldrea.

“Miss Holmes, you must promise to stay in here, not matter what.”

“I can’t-“

“You need to. You must promise me you will stay here, and you won’t make a sound, no matter what you hear.”

“Please Miss Yao, stay here with me, you can’t go out there. You be killed!” Etheldrea begged.

“And if you don’t listen to me, so will you. Please Miss Holmes.”

Etheldrea took a deep breath, and scooted farther back in the cabinet. Soo Lin closed the doors, and Etheldrea heard the sound of a padlock click.

“Miss Yao, wait-“

“Hush. Miss Holmes, you’re a very bright girl, and you are going to do wonderful things.”

It was dark in the cabinet, dim light filter through the crack in the doors. Etheldrea could only hear what was going on. Soo Lin was standing up, breathing shakily.

* * *

On the museum’s second floor, John was still searching for Sherlock and the killer. The gunfire had stopped minutes ago, and now there was no telling where he was. He was starting to regret leaving the girl’s alone.

From below him, in the direction of the girl’s, he heard one gun shot.

And then another.

“Oh my god.” He whispered.

John took off running as fast as he could. He slowed upon entering the room, panting as he searched for the girls. He round a counter and saw the body of Soo Lin Young, a black origami flower in her outstretched hand.

Behind him, he heard the sound a frantic running. Sherlock burst into the room, eyes scanning the entire area. He hurried to where John was and took in the scene.

“Etheldrea?” Sherlock called out, and John swore there was a hint of panic in his eyes, “Etheldrea, where are you?”

_“D-down here!”_

They looked toward the cabinet where she was pounding against the door. John knelt down and looked at the lock. There was a key inside it already, and he twisted and took it off. John opened the doors, and pulled Etheldrea out. He checked her over to make sure she wasn’t hurt, and then pulled her into a hug.

“She made me promise.” Etheldrea said looking at Soo Lin’s body, “I had to stay quiet. I shouldn’t have. I could have done something, anything.”

“Don’t say that.” Sherlock said, “There was nothing you could have done.”

* * *

Etheldrea sat on a bench outside waiting for Sherlock and John. They both agreed not to mention her involvement at the museum. It wouldn’t play very well with the officers, and would create a lot more trouble for Etheldrea. All she wanted to do now was go back to Baker Street.

“Excuse me Miss, could you help me?” a woman asked.

“Possibly. What do you need?” she asked.

“I’m trying to get back to my hotel, but I don’t know what street it is. It’s St. Ermine’s hotel.”

The woman was Chinese, obviously a tourist, and held a London A-Z book in her hands.

Etheldrea pointed down the street, “If you follow that path and turn the corner, it’s the fifth building down.”

“Really? That’s so silly of me.”

 “I know how confusing the streets can be. It took me a few months to figure it all out after we moved here.”

“Thank you for your help Miss . . .?

“Holmes. Etheldrea Holmes.”

“Thank you Miss Holmes. I wish you a good night.”

“And to you.”

The woman walked away. A few minutes later, Sherlock, John, and DI Dimmock came out.

“John, take Etheldrea home. I’ll see you there in a while.”

“Where are you going?” John asked.

“St. Bart’s. I need to see Van Coon and Lukis once more.”

Sherlock and Dimmock took one cab while John and Etheldrea took another. At Baker Street they talked for a while. John sat in his chair while Etheldrea relaxed on the sofa.

“John, how did your interview go?”

“Hm? Oh, right. It went great. I start Sunday.”

“Fantastic. Did you meet any of your co-workers? Are they nice?”

“Yeah. I met one. Sara Sawyer is my boss, she’s amazing. She’s great.”

She smirked,, “When are you going to ask her out?”

“What makes you think I’m going to ask her out?”

“I’d do it soon. Pretty girls go quickly.”

John laughed, but soon turned solemn.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Etheldrea, you just witnessed a woman be murdered. A woman who you also looked up to.”

“Yes, and I really wish it hadn’t, but you can’t change the past and most wishes don’t come true. It’s a rather sad fact of life, but you can’t let it weigh you down. When dad gets back, we need to be ready and emotions get in the way. The case isn’t over yet.”

John was concerned with her words, but still said, “If you need to talk, I’m always available.”

Etheldrea nodded, and then walked to her room to grab a book. John watched TV while she read, and after a while, Sherlock came in.

“It’s not just a criminal organization. It’s a cult. Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders.”

“Soo Lin said the name.” John said.

“Yes, Shan. General Shan.”

“We’re still no closer to finding him.”

“Wrong! We’ve got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces. Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need _her_ expertise?”

“She worked at the museum.”

“She was an expert in antiquities.” Etheldrea said, “She was actually teaching me something I didn’t know.”

“An expert. I suppose she was handling valuable antiques.” John said.

“Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China’s home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao’s revolution.” Sherlock said.

“And the Black Lotus is selling them.”

“We should look at the museum’s website. They have the auction lists posted daily.” Etheldrea said.

Sherlock grabbed his laptop and the other two crowded around him. He pulled up the website and began scrolling through the items. A pair of vases took his interest and he clicked on them.

“Arrived from China four days ago. Anonymous. The vendor doesn’t give his name.”

“There were two of them, two undiscovered treasures form the east.” Etheldrea pointed out.

“One in Lukis’s suitcase and one in Van Coon’s.” John said.

They looked at a list of artifacts sold over the past few months, all from an anonymous source. They eventually figured out what was happening. They were being stolen in China, and slowly being smuggled into Britain. All the auctions coincided with Van Coon and Lukis trips.

“Excuse me Sherlock, are we collecting for charity?” Mrs. Hudson asked, stepping into the room, “A young man’s outside with crates of books.”

“No Mrs. Hudson, those are for us.”

“Well, you’ll need a lot more shelves than you and Etheldrea have combined. There’s got to be at least twenty.”

Along with the police, they began to fill the living room with crate upon crate of books. Sherlock told them what they needed to do, fifteen and one meant page fifteen, word one. It also had to be a book that they both owned. Etheldrea got to work, grabbing two cases and searching through.

They worked well in through the day, and the afternoon, and into the night.  Every now and then Sherlock would mumble out a word. Etheldrea eventually fell asleep on the sofa, several books surrounding her, and another on her chest. By the time John’s watch went off, they had only broken though half of the crates.

“John, what day is it?” Etheldrea mumbled, having woken up to John’s watch.

“Uh, Sunday.” He said standing and stretching, “Why?”

“Yesterday was Saturday. I promised I wouldn’t forget.”

“Forget wha- Abigail’s birthday party.”

Mrs. Hudson walked into the room and motioned for Etheldrea.

“Sweetheart, there are a young girl and her brother downstairs looking for you. She says her names Abigail. She’s not one of the mean one’s is she?”

“No, she’s a friend, although maybe not for long.”

“If she’s really a friend, you two will work through it. I go let her up.”

A minute later, Abigail and her brother walked upstairs, both looking extremely angry.


	17. The Blind Baker Part 5

John patted Etheldrea on the shoulder, wished her luck, and then left for work. When she glanced back, Sherlock was hidden behind a stack of crates ignoring them.

“You forgot.” Abigail stated.

Etheldrea rubbed her arm, “I know.”

“You promised.”

“I know. You cannot even fathom how sorry I am.”

Abigail looked around the room at all the books, “You forgot because you were reading?”

Etheldrea shook her head, “Not exactly. It’s for a case.”

Immediately, Abigail perked up, “A case? What’s happening? Can I help?”

Her brother Adam looked at her incredulously, “Abby, I thought you were mad at her?”

“Well, she said sorry. Besides, this is much more interesting than a party.”

Etheldrea shook her head again, “Actually it’s not. We need to find all the books that both victims own, and we’ve barely broken the surface.”

“Well, where can we get started?”

Adam grabbed her shoulder, “Hold on, mom wants us back within an hour. We don’t have time, and also, once again, I thought you were _mad_ at her?”

“She said she was sorry, and that’s all I care about.”

“She should make it up to you.”

As they argued, Etheldrea dashed to her room and grabbed the gift. She came back and handed it to Abigail.

“And Adam’s right. I should make it up to you, and I want to. We could do something tonight; just give me some time to think of something.”

Abigail pulled the tissue paper away and took out the journal. Her face lit up in a Cheshire cat like grin as she looked at the glossy cover of Elvis Presley.

“Do you like it?” Etheldrea asked.

“Like it? I love it! How did you- never mind. Thank you so much.”

Abigail rushed forward and gave Etheldrea a hug, sending her a bit off balance. Etheldrea awkwardly wrapped her arms around her back and patted her.

Adam had crossed his arms and stared at them in disapproval, “Come on Abby, mom said we couldn’t stay for too long.”

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming. It’s not like it’ll be the end of the world if we miss breakfast.”

Abigail pulled back, said goodbye, and left the flat. Adam stuck behind and motioned for Etheldrea.

“Look, you didn’t see her last night. She was completely heartbroken because you didn’t show. She may act like she’s fine but-“

“She is fine, I would know. However, I do intend to make it up. Forgetting about the party was inexcusable. I’ll call her later and we’ll do something, I’ll take care of the planning.”

“Make room for me too, because I’m not going to have her show up only to find you’ve forgotten again.” He told her snarky.

Biting back a remark, she replied, “I won’t forget, I promise.”

“If you’ve done it once, you’ll do it again. I’ve been looking out for my sis for years, and I’ve heard about you and what you’ve said to people-“

“So the students have poisoned your mind too? If you were as smart as your sister, you see that I only say the truth.”

“Didn’t your mom ever tell if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t they anything at all?”

“I don’t have a mom, and my dad never taught me that. That phrase is stupid and pointless. It would be better to have people know the truth then to make an injurious judgment. Besides, those people deserve the truth thrown back in their faces for the way they treat others.”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that? No wonder no one likes you, you’re nothing but a bitch.”

With that final snarky remark, he turned and left. Etheldrea glared as he went, and then walked over to her father’s laptop. She typed in the password and pulled up the internet. She tried to find something exceptional for her and Abigail to do later.

“It’s safe to come out now.” She called to Sherlock.

“That was your _friend_? She’s far too agreeable for her own good.”

“Sometimes. But, she’s nonjudgmental. She’s kind of like John.”

“Her brother isn’t”

“Her brother is just another student, I don’t pay him much mind.”

Etheldrea logged off and stood up, “How far are you?”

“Not far enough.”

“Good luck then, I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“What’s more important than this?”

“Event searching. It needs to be something unique, and anything unique usually isn’t online.”

Sherlock stood up and walked over, pulling a crumpled red slip of paper from his pocket and handing it to her. She looked it over and saw that it was an advert for a circus.

“In London for one day only. I’ll arrange for the tickets, three if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah. Thanks dad, this is great.”

She handed the slip back, texted Abigail for confirmation which she received right away, and then turned to start looking through the books again. The day went on like that, and they had nearly cleared all the boxes. As Sherlock poured over another match, and Etheldrea pushed another crate away, she realized something.

“Dad, if it’s meant to be a book that everyone has, why wouldn’t we have it?”

“You’re right.”

He turned from his spot looked at the bookshelf. He pulled several form the shelf and looked through all of them. However, none appeared to be the one they needed.

At that time, John walked into the room in an upbeat spirit. Etheldrea smirked and congratulated him.

“Etheldrea, Mrs. Hudson wanted to see you.” John told her.

She thanked him and walked downstairs to the landlady’s apartments. Mrs. Hudson opened the door and welcomed her in.

“Ethel dear, I was hoping you could help me in the kitchen. Tomorrow morning there’s a special meeting going on in the café. I’d do it myself, but I’m going out later tonight with some of the girls.”

“I’d be happy to help Mrs. Hudson. Just tell me what to do.”

“You’re such a sweetheart. In the fridge there’s dough for pie already cool. You can roll that out while I prepare the filling.”

The two set to work and baked throughout the entire afternoon. They made five pies, four dozen biscuits, and three cakes. Mrs. Hudson and Etheldrea were both covered in flower and drops of filling and frosting. After saying goodbye, Etheldrea hurried upstairs to take a shower and change her clothes. Taking a look at the clock, she saw it was almost time to go and grabbed her purse.

In the living room, Sherlock was still looking over the books. He paused when Etheldrea called for his attention.

“Are you alright with me going? I could cancel and plan for after the case.”

“No, go to the circus.”

“John’s not here to help you- where is he?”

“A date. Some girl he met at the hospital. Now go.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’ll be going out soon myself.”

Etheldrea quickly gave her dad a kiss on the cheek before he could move, “Thanks again for the tickets.”

He nodded, “Of course.”

Downstairs, she was surprised to see a black car pull up and the door opened. She rolled her eyes and stepped in. When she sat down, she was even more surprised to see more people than Anthea.

“I can take a cab, it’s what I usually- Abigail? Adam? What are you . . .? _Uncle Mycroft._ Oh for the love of god. Please tell me he didn’t take you to a warehouse.”

“He did.” Abigail replied, “And he tried to scare the crap out of Adam. Didn’t work like it should have, I thought.”

Etheldrea groaned, “What did he do?”

Adam replied, “Threatened to make me disappear, when that didn’t work, threatened to make Abigail disappear, then the family. Threatened to have us sent off to a special school. I laughed in his face, like he has the power to do that.”

“Oh you’d be surprised. Why did he threaten you?”

“For the way I talked you this morning.”

“For the way- how did he? Anthea, he has the flat bugged, doesn’t he?”

“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to disclose information like that Miss Holmes.”

“That’s a yes. I’m going to kill him.”

 “What are you, a princess or something?” Adam asked incredulously.

Etheldrea shook her head, “I used to dream, but then when I realized her Majesty has less protection then I do, that dream fizzled.”

A silence filled the car, the only noise from the click of Anthea’s phone as she texted. Adam was looking out a window, Abigail looking around, and Etheldrea toying with her hands.

“Etheldrea, would your Uncle seriously make me disappear?” Adam asked.

She nodded her head, “It’s not the worst thing he’s done.”

Adam nodded once, looked back out the window, and then looked back at Etheldrea.

“Uh, about this morning. I’m sorry. I was harsh.”

“Please don’t apologize when you don’t mean it. Besides, I wouldn’t let him do anything. Why do think there are still people at school?”

“Right. Ok then.”

Before anything more could be said, the car stopped in front of the venue. The three walked up to the doors of the old theater, looking at the large red lanterns suspended above their heads.

“A Chinese circus?” Abigail gushed, “That’s so cool!”

“And highly coincidental.” Etheldrea muttered, a bad feeling developing in the pit of her stomach.

As they walked towards the box office, Etheldrea noticed John already there along with who she suspected was Sarah. She heard the conversation as they drew closer.

The box office man asked, “What’s the name?”

“Holmes.”

“Actually, I have six tickets in that name.”

“No, I don’t think so. We only booked two.”

Etheldrea asked as they walked next to the couple, “John?”

He looked over and his face dropped. From behind her, Etheldrea felt someone standing.

A familiar baritone voice said, “And then I phoned back got four more.”

Etheldrea and John looked at him with disdain as he shook hands with Sara, Abigail, and Adam.

“Hello.” He said, and then turned and walked up a set of stairs.

John and Etheldrea followed him and began to question him.

“You couldn’t let me have just one night off?” John asked.

“Yeah dad, this is supposed to make up for missing Abigail’s birthday.”

“Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits.” Sherlock explained as if it made the situation better, “The Tong sent an assassin into England-“

“Dressed as a tightrope walker. Come, Sherlock, behave!”

“We’re looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity?”

Etheldrea sighed, “You make a good point.”

“Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a good reason to get out of that country. Now all I need to do is have a quick look around the place.”

“Fine you do that; I’ll take Sarah for a pint.”

“And I’ll bring Abby and Adam to the cinema.”

“I need your help.” Sherlock told them.

“I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening, and I’m sure Etheldrea does too.” John replied.

_“Like what?”_

John and Etheldrea looked as if he had grown a second head, “You are kidding?”

“What’s so important?”

“Sherlock, I’m in the middle of a date. You’re going to chase some killer while I’m trying to-” John paused and looked at Etheldrea.

_“What?”_

John covered Etheldrea’s ears for a moment, “While I’m trying to get off with Sarah.”

Right as he said that, Sarah walked up to them with Abigail and Adam behind them. They had obviously heard John’s comment and the two siblings were struggling not to laugh. Sarah, as nice as she was, ignored it and smiled at them.

“Hey . . . ready?” John asked.

“Yeah.”

They walked up the stairs to the theater room, and Sherlock stood at one side behind John and Sarah. Etheldrea pushed Abigail and Adam to a different side.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to them, “I had no idea he’d do this. We can do something else.”

“Are you kidding? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. When is a circus like this going to be back in town?” Abigail asked.

“Yeah, it can’t be that bad.” Adam agreed.

“If he’s here for a case, it’s going to end badly. Most events usually do.”

She shut up as a small drum began to play. The venue looked fantastic with candles lit in a circle. Inside, a wooden platform stood up and something under a sheet. A woman in a pink and red kimono walked over and took the sheet off, revealing a large looking crossbow.

 She pulled what appeared to be an arrow from a bin and placed it in the crossbow machine. From her headdress, she pulled out one feather. The moment she placed it in a silver bow, the arrow flew out with a great whoosh, scaring several members of the audience.

Next a large man in a mask walked to the center and was wrapped in several layers of chains, and then locked to the platform.

“Etheldrea, do you know what’s happening?” Adam whispered.

“It’s a classic Chinese escapology act. Crossbow on a delicate string and the warrior has to escape the chains before it fires. See that sandbag up there, she’ll split it and a ball will slowly lower.”

“What if he doesn’t escape?” Abigail asked.

“He’s locked to the platform. What do you think could happen?”

“Is this safe? For us? If someone dies, could we get in trouble?”

“Not at all. If worse comes to worst, we’d be witnesses to murder.”

As the drums played and a gong rang out, the suspense raised while the warrior tried to escape the bonds. Etheldrea glanced back towards John and Sarah, and found Sherlock was gone. Electing to remain calm and refrain from looking for him, she turned back to watch. Abigail was practically jumping, her head whipping back and forth from the man to the arrow. Adam was staring intently, watching the ways the chains fell and were released.

Then, the weight dropped and the arrow flew. At the last possible second, the man dropped and the crowd applauded. As he bowed and walked back, the woman in the kimono walked back and raised her hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of the Yangtze River, we present, for your pleasure, the deadly Chinese bird spider.”

The woman walked back, and from the ceiling a man rolled down on a ribbon. As the ends flayed out behind him, it seemed as he floated around the circle.

“Why is he deadly?” Abigail asked, “He floating around the room, how deadly is that?”

Adam chuckled, “Yeah, but hear how silent he is? I’m sure if we didn’t know he was there, he could have come around and killed us.”

Etheldrea gasped, “Oh my god.”

She watched the man for a few moments, and then the other members. The woman was watching her with keen interest, but looked away as soon as she was caught. Behind her, Etheldrea saw the curtain sway. Etheldrea gulped, and looked back between the performer and her friend.

“Guys, I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Where are you going?” Abigail asked.

“I’ll just be a minute.”

“Running off already?” Adam sneered.

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and walked over to John and Sarah. John saw her and then seemed a bit annoyed.

“John, I’m sorry, but you know I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important. Where’s dad?”

“No clue. What’s wrong?”

“The bird spider, he’s our killer.”

“What?”

At that moment, something black fell out from behind the curtain. It was Sherlock, and he was soon followed by another man who wore a mask. John and Etheldrea ran forward, John tackled the man and was pushed off to the side. Etheldrea ran around the man and pulled him back, inadvertently knocking herself into the four foot tall wall behind them. She released, and lowered herself to the floor, holding her head.

To their surprise, Sarah Sawyer ran forward with one of the arrows and wacked the man until he fell. Etheldrea felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. Abigail was looking at her with concern. She pulled her to her feet, and they all followed as Sherlock told them to hurry.

Outside, several police cars surrounded the building. Etheldrea saw Detective Dimmock at one of them.  Behind them, one lone black car sat with its door open. Sherlock told them to go home, and that he would see Etheldrea at Baker Street.

“I’m so sorry.” Etheldrea said, “I had no clue what would happen tonight.”

Abigail said in awe, “Are you kidding? That was the coolest thing I have ever seen! The way your dad burst through that curtain, and then the dude! And then you and John helped distract him while that girl hit him! That. Was. Awesome!”

“What was going on?” Adam asked.

“A gang smuggling ring. The bird spider, he’s an assassin.”

“Wait, so he could have actually killed us?” Abigail asked.

“Yes. He’s killed three people in the past week.”

“Oh my god. That’s terrifying! You do this every day?”

“It’s different every time. Sometimes they just try to kill my dad and me.”

“That’s dangerous, how are you still in his custody?” he asked.

“There’s no one better than him to raise me. I know that, he knows that, and so does my Uncle.”

“Oh yeah, the ruler of the government. Abby, when we get home, we shouldn’t mention this to mom and dad.”


	18. The Blind Baker Part 6

Etheldrea was sitting in the kitchen, still in her jacket and scarf, when Sherlock, John, and Sarah walked in.

“They’ll be back in China by tomorrow.” John was saying.

“No, they won’t leave without what they came for.” Sherlock replied, “We need to find a hideout.”

Etheldrea stood up and looked at the mirror with all the evidence taped around it. The pictures of the symbols, the numbers translated. It was a complete mystery to them, and there was no way to solve it.

“Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it.” Sarah said, looking a bit crestfallen.

“No, you don’t have to go. Stay.”

“Yes, it’d be better if you left now.”

Etheldrea swatted Sherlock on the shoulder, “Be nice.”

“He’s kidding. Please stay if you’d like.”

Sarah laughed nervously, “Is it me, or is anyone else starving?”

“Oh god.” Sherlock mumbled.

“Ignore him.” John said, going to the kitchen.

Etheldrea walked out of the room and down stairs to Mrs. Hudson’s. She hoped it wasn’t too late, but this was desperate. She knocked on the door and waited.

“What’s wrong dear?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

Etheldrea explained, and Mrs. Hudson got to work right away. There was a bowl of punch set aside for the meeting tomorrow, but it could easily be remade.  In her cupboard there was a bag of crisps. Mrs. Hudson set everything on a tray and started heading upstairs, telling Etheldrea to grab a dozen of the biscuits they had made as it wouldn’t make much difference. How many dozen could eight or less people eat?

Quietly, they stepped into the kitchen where John was failing to find anything to eat.

“I’ve done punch and a bowl of nibbles.” Mrs. Hudson whispered, “And I had Ethel dear bring up some biscuits.”

“Girls, you are saints.”

“If it was Monday, I’d have been to the supermarket.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

Mrs. Hudson traveled back downstairs prepping to leave for the evening, and Etheldrea walked to her room. Technically, John was still on his date, and she didn’t want to ruin that for him. She would have tried to convince Sherlock to move to his room, but she knew it would be easier to pull a tooth.

As she lay on her bed playing with the ends of her scarf, she wondered if Sherlock and her mother had ever gone on dates. She would assume so, but then again, her dad didn’t seem like a date-person. Or maybe her mom wasn’t a date person. How would she know?

There were no memories of her mother. For as long as she can remember, it had always been her and dad. When she entered school, and was asked about her mother, she didn’t know how to reply. The night she asked Sherlock. He told her that Amy Smith was a young woman he had met in university. They went out for a year, and in that year, she was born. Then, Amy started doing bad things, things that no child should be around. So they talked, and Amy agreed to get help, and Sherlock took Etheldrea away until she could get better. Etheldrea would hope that she did, but as she got older, the more it seemed like Amy Smith didn’t.

Etheldrea stood up from her bed and walked over to the closet. She pulled out the white wood box and sat back down. Turning the key, she popped the top up and examined the photo of Amy Smith sitting near a tree in Hyde Park. She had long, wavy blonde hair, fair skin, and brown eyes. Her cheeks were full, and her body was slender. Etheldrea looked nothing like her, except for possibly the hair, but then again, Grandma Violet had wavy hair as did Uncle Mycroft. Maybe instead of looks, she inherited personality but who knew other than Sherlock? He had never mentioned if Etheldrea took after her mother. He never mentioned her at all.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

It was John, “Hey, we’re ordering Chinese. What do you want?”

She shook her head, “I’m fine.”

“Etheldrea, to my knowledge, you haven’t eaten in two days. What do you want?”

“If I want something, I’ll order it myself. There’s no need for you to do it for me.”

“Etheldrea Holmes, I swear, I will order you those spring rolls you hate so much.”

“Alright, alright, don’t get crazy. Just some chow mei would be fine.”

“There was that so hard?” he chuckled as he left.

“Thank you John.”

Etheldrea stood and put the white box back. She grabbed a book from herself and lay down to read. About ten minutes later, she heard heavy knocking at the door. She put the book down and walked out of the room, and down the stairs. She arrived just as John opened the door.

“Sorry to keep you. How much do you want?” John asked.

“Do you have it?” the man at the door asked.

“What?”

“Do you have the treasure?”

“I don’t understand.”

Without warning, and to Etheldrea’s shock, the man knocked John unconscious. The man moved quick as lightening, and Etheldrea turned and ran up the stairs.

“SARAH! HIDE!” she shouted as the man grabbed the back of her jacket.

She struggled to get out of it, but the man just pulled her closer, and down the stars. To her dismay, Sarah was rushing down the stairs instead of hiding. With her final cry of hide, the man slammed her head into the wall and she saw nothing but black.

* * *

When Etheldrea regained consciousness, all she felt was pain. Her head, her wrists, and her legs. But it slowly died down, and she took observation of her surroundings. She was tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth. She could hear whimpering directly behind her, and assumed it was Sarah. Off to the left, she saw an unconscious John. In front of her was the covered crossbow from the circus, and the gang.

After several minutes, John slowly came to and the woman walked forward.

“A book is like a magic garden, carried in your pocket. Ancient Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes.”

“I- I’m not Sherlock Holmes.” John replied.

“Forgive me if I do not take your word for it.”

The woman reached forward, and pulled out John’s wallet. She pulled out several items.

“Debit card in name of S Holmes.”

“That’s not actually mine, he lent that to me.”

“And a cheque for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”

“Yeah, he gave me that to look after.”

“Tickets collect by you in the name of Holmes.”

“Yes, ok. I realize what this looks like. But I’m not him.”

“We heard it from your own mouth.”

“What?”

“’I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone.’”

“Did I really say that? I suppose there’s no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression.”

The woman held up a gun, directly in his face, and Etheldrea began to fidget in her seat trying to talk through the gag.

“Aw, your daughter is trying to save you again. I must admit, you raised a very brave girl.”

“She’s not my daughter; she’s my flat mate’s daughter.”

The woman tsked and shook her head, “If it was true, it still wouldn’t save her. I am Shan. Three times we tried to kill you, your daughter, and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?”

Shan cocked the gun, and Etheldrea squirmed some more, but one of the men in the gang held her chair in place. She could only watch as the trigger was pulled, and . . . the gun clicked.

“It tells you that they’re not really trying.”

The woman grabbed bullets form her pocket and slid them into the gun.

“Not blank bullets now. If we wanted to kill you Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive. Do you have it?”

“Do I have what?”

“The treasure.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I would prefer to make certain.”

Shan walked over to Etheldrea and pulled the gag off, “You seem to have a bit to say dear. But I don’t care, you’re with him all the time. Tell us where it is.”

Etheldrea shook her head, “I don’t know, but I do know you’re wrong!”

“Wrong about what? Identity? That’s easily acted.”

Shan turned back to John, and Etheldrea became fraught, “Please! Listen to me! Do I look anything like the man before you?”

“I assume you look like your mother.”

“But I don’t! She’s blonde, fair skinned and brown eyed! Do I look anything like that? Do I sound anything like her? Do I look anything like him? No! It’s because I’m practically a carbon copy of my father, Sherlock Holmes! The man sitting in front of you is Dr. John Watson! You have the wrong man!”

“I’m afraid I still don’t believe you.” Shan said as she pulled the cover off of the crossbow, “Everything in the west has its price. And the price for their lives- information.”

The men grabbed Sarah and Etheldrea, and carried them over to the front of the cross bow.

“Where’s the hairpin?”

“What?”

“The empress hair pin valued at nine million sterling! We already had a buyer in the West, and then one of our people was greedy. He took it and brought it back to London, and you, Mr. Holmes, have been searching.”

“Please, you have to believe me. I’m not Sherlock Holmes. I haven’t found whatever it is you’re looking for.”

Shan turned away from John and towards the girls, “I need volunteers from the audience.”

“No, please, please!”

“Aw, thank you kind ladies. You’ll do very nicely.”

Sarah struggled to free herself; the ropes tying her down wouldn’t budge. Etheldrea kept trying to move, but the chairs were heavy, and she could only move so much on the gravel. The best she could move was backwards and even then, only a centimeter at a time. It made no point to move now, as Shan’s henchmen were standing by her sides.

 Shan grabbed the knife and punctured the sandbag. The sand fell, and the weight began to lower.  Then, she walked over to the girls.

Placing an origami black lotus on Sarah’s lap, she said, “Ladies and gentlemen from the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes’ pretty companion and daughter in a death-defying act. You’ve seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends.”

“I’M NOT SHERLOCK HOLMES!” John yelled at her.

“I don’t believe you!”

“You should you know. Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him” A familiar voice echoed in the tunnel.

The henchmen turned and ran after him, him being the real Sherlock Holmes. Now, with them all distracted by gun talk, Etheldrea focused on getting Sarah out of here. She rocked forward as hard as she could until she was standing, hunched over, on her toes. Cautiously, she scooted to the side, and backwards until she was directly next to Sarah.

“Sorry, this might hurt.” She said as she knocked into her chair.

It didn’t budge the first time, but the second time was a hit, and Sarah fell over. Then, there was a problem. One henchmen, the bird spider man, came back and shifted Etheldrea’s chair so that it rest between the feet of Sarah’s chair. She was stuck.

Behind her, she heard eh signs of struggle. Sherlock had pulled the man away, but now a large red scarf was choking him. Etheldrea rocked as hard as she could, but the chair wasn’t moving. Across from her, John saw what happened, and began to rock his chair. He was able to stand on his feet, but he rushed towards the crossbow, and fell.

Etheldrea watched the sand fall, and the weight drop. There was nothing she could do except wait. She sat up straighter, breathed in, and closed her eyes.

_WHOOSH_

To her left, she felt the rush of wind, and then the sound of embedding into a solid base. Then, a low groan. Opening her eyes, she looked left to see the assassin lying on the ground and the arrow in his stomach. In the distance, there was the sound of receding footsteps. She guessed that Shan had got away.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked as he untied her bonds.

“I’m fine.”

As soon as she was free, she stood and hurried to help John. Sherlock helped Sarah, telling her everything would be alright.

John smiled wearily at her, “Don’t worry, next date won’t be like this.”

* * *

After the police arrived, Etheldrea wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. However, as soon as her father was finished talking to DI Dimmock, he walked her down the sidewalk to an unknown location.

“It’s been what, five days since we’ve last eaten?”

“About, yeah. John thinks it’s been two.”

“You don’t want Chinese, do you?”

“After tonight, not for a while. How about Italian?”

“Angelo’s it is.”

“Oh, by the way, Uncle Mycroft bugged the flat again.”

“I knew it. We’ll take care of it Wednesday.”

“Why not tomorrow?”

“We’ll be attending a funeral tomorrow. One Soo Lin Yao’s friends contacted me earlier this morning. I can’t miss the funeral of the woman who saved your life.”

The detective and his daughter walked to the restaurant, and ordered their food. They talked for a while, Sherlock filling her in on what she missed, and Etheldrea talked about Abigail. He wouldn’t show it, but he was very glad she had made a friend after all this time. Over the past few years, Etheldrea had slowly changed. She went from exploratory and wandering, to silent and unadventurous until the day John Watson and Abigail Grey entered their lives.

Now, things were back to normal, and becoming normal. A case finished a new one tomorrow, and their faithful friends with them the entire way. That’s the way their world turned, and would continue to turn for another month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far and want to read more, either look for my name on FF.net to read up to Story 5, or wait until the next story is posted. Transferring these from FF.net is taking a lot longer than I thought it would, so it will be a few days until all my stories are up. Thanks for reading!  
> The next story in the series is called Faults in Personality.


End file.
